Mutual Comfort
by INeedCoffeeArghhh
Summary: Spying on your enemy and getting stuck in a tree is one thing. But being rescued by his chain-smoking best friend and falling unconscious in his arms? That's a whole other butt-ache entirely...
1. Trees and Challenges

**A/N: There may come a day when I write a popular pairing again, but it is not this day! **

**Smut. This contains smut. Now you can't say I didn't warn you this time! **

* * *

If Stan had learned anything from the uncomfortable, awkward and highly embarrassing situation he had found himself in, with the blood rushing to his head and a sharp pain in his ankle, it was that he was not a superhero, and did not have the ability to see in the dark. He also learned that if you were going to climb up the tree outside your enemy's third floor bedroom window, after observing that he was in the game's room (because yes his enemy was _that_ rich), then you should first know how the hell you were going to get down again.

He'd found the window locked and no way to get in. He'd cursed and started climbing down. He wasn't high up when he fell; he was actually fairly near the ground. Landing there would have been better. It may have resulted in a few scrapes and bumps, but it would not have resulted in his ankle getting caught between two branches, having nothing to grab hold of and falling until he was inevitably hanging upside down in the almost pitch-black, with no way to get himself free.

That was not a good scenario, because it meant he had to call for help, and who was around to help? Nobody but Gregory...

He was screwed, totally screwed.

Just as he was about to let the side of him that cried out for a warm bath and a soothing cup of camomile tea take over from the side that was not ready to admit defeat and would more happily swing there for the rest of his life, he heard someone coming out of Gregory's front door. He was hidden from view, Gregory's bedroom being on the side of the house. He listened closely and made out a French accent saying goodbye.

The door closed again and he knew he had few seconds to decide which he preferred: Christophe or Gregory? The decision was blindingly obvious.

"Uh, hello?" he called hesitantly, trying to hide the embarrassment in his voice but failing. "Anyone there?" The footsteps that had begun down the side-walk stopped and he heard a surprised grunt. He continued: "I need... help."

He waited and prayed that Christophe wasn't in one of his terrible moods where the world was dead to him and nobody got anything from him. He hoped that Christophe was in a helpful mood... or at least a curious one that he'd want to see who was calling for him.

"'Ello?"

"I'm around the side." Even though he was upside down, Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. This was just so humiliating. He couldn't see Christophe approach very well. His legs were in focus but it was too dark and dizzying to see his face. Stan could hear him laugh though.

"Marsh!" Christophe chuckled and stepped closer. "Ees zis some new internet craze I'm not aware of? Or are you just hanging out?" He laughed again.

Stan sighed. "Real... real funny, dude. I fell, okay, and please, I'd really appreciate some help."

"I can see zat. Oui, you're pretty much stuck until someone rescues you." Christophe smirked and pushed Stan lightly, making him just slightly swing.

Stan glared up, hoping Christophe could see. "Are you going to leave me here all night? Come on. Don't be a dick!"

"Maybe you could ask God for 'elp? See what use eet does."

"Come on, dude!"

Christophe smirked and leant against the tree, lighting a cigarette. It was clear he was planning on having some fun before he either helped Stan or left. Stan supposed he shouldn't have expected any less.

"I see no reason to save you. I 'ear nothing but bad about you from Gregory, and I find eet a leetle suspicious zat you are hanging upside down from a tree outside 'is house."

Stan looked at the ground and frowned. "I was trying to find some information I could use against him."

"You were planning on breaking eento ees room?"

"...Yes."

"Oh, Marsh, he'd 'av found you out een a matter of minutes. You idiot!"

"Well I'm fed up of him always having something over me, always winning our arguments!" Stan hated how a rivalry that had sparked at such a young age had only intensified over the years and Gregory had become a truly fearsome one to have, but Stan couldn't get out of it, and he could never win. Gregory was slowly destroying all his confidence and determination, with actions as simple as a small comment or an intimidating smirk. His girlfriend had been stolen from him, his winning track record beaten. He was losing everything.

It wasn't just Gregory. His home life was less than perfect. After a year of them being apart, he realised his parents were broken up for good. Not having to be subject to heated arguments was a positive, but facing his mom's new boyfriends and his dad's stupid ways of 'staying young' was not. He had Kyle to tell all this to, and he did, but he couldn't curl up with Kyle, couldn't hold him close.

He couldn't do that with anyone.

Christophe stood in front of him, crouching down until he met Stan's eye level, his face now viewable, smoke blowing from his mouth. "Gregory 'as something over everyone, but 'e only uses eet eef you anger 'im."

"I think it's very clear we anger each other!" replied Stan in an annoyed tone. "He's an arrogant asshole." He stared heatedly into Christophe's eyes, which were shining a bright green, even in the dim light.

Christophe chuckled. "Oui."

"Are you going to get me down yet? I'm feeling faint."

Christophe sighed. "Okay, fine. So I don't get blamed eef a big dog attacks you or something. Keep still." Stan could feel a rustling as Christophe moved up into the tree to get a good view of the problem. He pulled on the branch which was obstructing Stan's freedom. Stan felt a tugging at his foot and something shifting. "Get ready. Get your arms out ready to catch yourself."

Stan panicked. "What? How? How do I -" And then with a grunt, he hit the floor, arms never tensing, hands only scraping the floor in a failed attempt to cushion the blow. Nothing stopped his head from hitting the hard ground and with a groan, he fell unconscious.

* * *

Stan groaned again as he awoke, groggily and in much confusion. He could smell smoke and a subtle but distinctly masculine scent, woody notes mixed with something else more sensual. He realised he was smelling Christophe and when he came to a little more he realised it was because he was lying on Christophe's bed, no coat, no shoes.

He blinked and pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing at the shoot of pain in his head and searching for the other boy. He found him sitting at the end of the bed, reading a book and smirking.

"You're awake," he stated without looking up.

"How did I -"

"I carried you," Christophe replied, shutting his book and dropping it to the floor. "You fell unconscious after 'itting your 'ead so I carried you 'ere. I didn't think you'd want 'elp from Gregory. Eet's luck my mozer's not home tonight." He narrowed his eyes. "Zis wouldn't 'av 'appened eef you'd listened to me. I told you to get ready!"

"You told me to catch myself!" Stan raised a hand to his head and winced again. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Eet means stop being a idiot and think for yourself!" Christophe shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm not a complete bastard. I could 'av left you zere een ze street. Eet's your own fault you got eento zat mess for spying on someone... my best friend in fact. I should tell all to 'im. I see no reason not to."

"Then why don't you?" muttered Stan. He pushed himself up and only then did he notice the bandage wrapped around his lower arm, and realised that his head felt almost freezing cold. He put his hand back to it and looked around, until his eyes met with Christophe holding up an ice pack from next to him on the bed.

"Does zis explain the coldness?"

Stan stared in confusion. "You - You used that on me? And you bandaged my arm?" he asked incredulously.

"Eet's not like I saved a dying baby, Marsh. I only spared you from a nasty swelling and small blood loss. Besides, ze bandages were as much to keep my sheets clean as zey were for you."

"But, dude, even so... that's really nice of you." He smiled. "Thank you. And thank you for getting me down in the first place. I wasn't looking forward to yelling for help from Gregory..."

"'E would 'av probably left you out zere all night and taken pictures. I think he'd see saving someone with so much stupidity a waste of his time." Christophe chuckled and grinned. "You're lucky I didn't 'av my phone on me. You did look very funny."

Stan found himself staring happily back at Christophe's grin. "I always thought I looked my best when I was hanging upside down?"

"Non. I wouldn't recommend eet, zough I did get a good view of your ass."

Stan blushed slightly but joked back, "What a nice treat for you."

"Ah, oui." Christophe raised his eyebrow and slowly reached his arm forward to brush the side of Stan's behind. Instead of stopping it, Stan laughed and flipped over onto his stomach. He knew Christophe was trying to make him embarrassed and so resolved that he would have the last laugh.

"Go on then, feel it if you want to." Stan closed his eyes and rested his head on his arms. "I won't stop you." He expected for Christophe to make a noise of repulsion, call him a faggot and push him to the floor. What he got instead was a jolt as Christophe's hand rested on the back of his thigh, before running smoothly up his ass.

Stan's gasp had obviously entertained Christophe. "You asked for eet." He squeezed one of Stan's ass cheeks firmly and then patted the other before retracting his hand. "I never back down from a challenge, Marsh."

Stan knew that he should have quit at that moment, saved himself from all the embarrassment and confusing feelings that would ultimately take over his head. However he didn't because all he could think was that he could not let Christophe win, that having both Christophe and Gregory triumphing over him would be too much. Maybe some of his hatred for Gregory spurred his actions; it was certainly what he put the feelings in his stomach down to.

"Surely you'd get a better feel if my pants weren't in the way?" He asked it as calmly as he could though he felt his stomach flip once, knowing he didn't want to anger of offend Christophe in any way.

"I would, oui," replied Christophe.

Stan waited in silence for a few seconds, and then, concluding that Christophe wasn't going to do anything, began to turn over, fake a laugh and then go home. However in the second he decided this, he felt Christophe's hands once again touch his body.

He went stiff. This wasn't like before. The French boy's hands were sliding along his sides, moving down from the waist and very slowly creeping underneath him along his belt line.

"Dude!" Stan arched up a little to push himself into a sitting position, but Christophe pushed him back down with a chuckle and slowly undid his belt. His fingers next went for Stan's pant buttons, who was momentarily too stunned to say or do anything.

"I am just undoing so I can pull zem down," Christophe explained. "So I can get a better feel as requested."

Stan blushed and stuttered, "I-It wasn't a request."

"Ah, zen eet was a challenge." Christophe slipped down Stan's pants slightly, just low enough that they no longer protected his ass. Stan gasped again and cursed. It was plain to see he wasn't wearing boxers and this left his bare ass exposed to Christophe's eyes. He was so embarrassed but also not wanting to lose the strange challenge between them, he did not back down.

"The washing machine's broken," he muttered. "I don't usually... free ball." Stan could sense that Christophe was smirking, or grinning widely. He had to be amused whatever it was, with Stan in a vulnerable position and him being close to much more than was normal.

"I do," replied Christophe nonchalantly. "Eet's comfier."

Any reply Stan had to that comment was cut short as he felt Christophe's hands once again caress his ass. This time he noticed how warm they were. And though the palms felt calloused, the tips of his fingers were surprisingly smooth, almost enjoyable. Stan gasped at his own thoughts and did not permit them to stay around any longer. He'd had it; he knew he'd lost.

"You win! You win!" he said quickly, fidgeting. Christophe didn't take his hands away but instead pressed down harder.

"What do I win?" His tone was amused and it did help relax Stan a little. At least there wasn't any awkwardness in the air. It almost felt like Christophe did this regularly with people he rescued from trees...

"What do you win?" Stan rolled his eyes. "Dude, this is getting pretty gay."

"... I am gay." Christophe removed his hands and chuckled. "Couldn't you tell when I started talking about your ass?"

Stan was completely shocked by this declaration, Christophe never being someone he imagined that way. He already knew of someone else that was gay, someone who's heart just beat a fraction faster. "I thought you were joking!"

"Non. I really do like your ass. Eet's very toned, one of ze best I've seen." Christophe sounded completely natural and truthful, not bothered by talking about intimate areas or paying Stan such a strange compliment.

Stan laughed nervously. "Thank you. It's down to sports, I guess."

"Oui. I don't think eet ees your coach's first intention to train you up so zat you 'av a very fuckable ass, but eet's certainly a good side-effect."

Stan chuckled. "Anal sex doesn't rank very high on his agenda."

He raised his hips and pulled his pants back up before he turned over, trying to protect at least some of his decency. He tried not to dwell on the fact he'd just let a guy squeeze his ass... especially a gay guy... a gay guy he hardly knew... a gay guy he hardly knew who was best friends with his enemy. What did that say about him? And was it that Christophe only did this to laugh with Gregory about it later?

Stan felt a twinge of hatred at that. However then he remembered how this had begun: Christophe saving him from the tree, carrying him and cleaning him up. That didn't sound like a cruel person.

When Stan turned over he felt two things which almost equally shocked him and sent his face into a bright red hue he didn't think would ever leave. Christophe's appearance was what brought these feelings; his face was close and his eyes shockingly green, burning bright and contrasting with the faint pink stretching across his cheeks. Stan's stomach flipped once more and with a horrified gasp, he felt his pants tighten, noticing that the erection must have been building previously - How had he not noticed?

Stan gasped and looked down, biting his lip. There was no use to try hiding it with his face on fire and Christophe practically close enough to feel it. He turned away as he felt Christophe's eyes flicking down as well and did not move until he felt this boy's fingers brushing against one of his cheeks, turning his face slowly back. When they locked eyes again it was with one shared thought.

Christophe pressed his lips against Stan's and kissed forcefully, moving his hands from Stan's cheeks to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the hair and pulling gently but urgently to get Stan's lips to reciprocate. Stan kissed back just as urgently, hands reaching to grab Christophe's shoulders.

He gasped when they drew apart and stared at each other again. He licked his lips and blushed. It must have fuelled something inside Christophe again for their lips pushed back together and the French boy groaned. Stan repeated the sound, and when Christophe's tongue tried to push his mouth open he let it, pushing back on it.

Every time they drew apart and looked at each other, they saw their eyes were reflecting the same feelings of shock and lust. Neither could deny the hunger they felt, though their bodies seemed caught between stopping and proceeding. It was why Stan's arms shook but his hands gripped tighter, his lips would pull from Christophe's and then slam back harder. And when Christophe finally pushed him back and pinned him down, he found that he'd been desperately awaiting it.

Christophe was gorgeous; Stan always knew that. It wasn't just his eyes that lit up his face, it was every feature on that tanned skin. Even in artificial light it seemed to hit the right points, make it strongly glow. Christophe's lips were pink and wet from kissing and Stan groaned as he pulled them towards himself again, biting down lightly on one before he could stop.

He felt Christophe's body press against his and he felt the reaction in both of their pants. It was clearly not just him who has feeling it; Christophe also felt quite far on. He knew in that moment what was going to happen and saw that backing out wasn't an option... because he didn't want to.

Stan panted and arched his hips up, pressing against Christophe and circling once in a grinding motion. He could tell Christophe had picked up on all the signs and change of atmosphere in the room, grinding back with a spark in his eye. Stan shivered because he didn't trust that spark, and not trusting it made him all the more excited.

He lifted his arms when Christophe pulled at his shirt and willingly allowed it to be taken off him. Christophe's lips fell onto his skin, kissing gently over his chest, they were soft and the slowly increasing pressure of them matched Stan's slowly increasing desperation, like they were both building together towards something mentioned in joking but now so real. All the while, Christophe continued the grinding movement.

Stan groaned when Christophe's tongue darted to lick his nipple. He never imagined the sensation to be as pleasurable as it was, the sensation still mixing with shock at every new movement Christophe made, every inch of skin the tongue discovered seemed to be waiting for him. Stan wanted the same. He wanted to explore Christophe's chest.

He pulled at the hem of Christophe's shirt and started yanking the material upwards to reveal skin, not caring how it was impossible for it to go over Christophe's head that moment.

"Christophe, p-please." He realised these were the first words he'd said since their lips locked and he wasn't surprised to hear they'd be spoken shakily, breathlessly and with a high measure of desperation.

Christophe smirked and sat back, straddling Stan's waist. He pulled away his t-shirt and gazed down at him. Stan was too busy hungrily trailing his eyes over Christophe's chest to look him in the eyes back. The first thing he noticed was the immense fitness levels the boy must have, because he couldn't see an inch which wasn't either flat or held a strong, smooth muscle. He was almost convinced he'd hear a musical sound if he ran his fingers down Christophe's abs. He noticed two old scars, one running along Christophe's right hip, the other by the top of his shoulder. He also had some fresh-looking bruises on his chest and scratches on his arm.

Stan licked his lips and drew his head forward to kiss the tanned skin. He smiled as he did so, feeling Christophe's hands running through his hair and then down his shoulder blades. He kissed harder, tasting the skin... men's skin. He was kissing and licking a _man's_ chest. It was finally happening - confirmation of his homosexuality.

He groaned and kissed harder.

"Just..." muttered Christophe breathlessly, pinning Stan's arms behind his head and pushing him back down flat against the bed. He cut the rest of his speech with another fierce kiss. He pushed his tongue against Stan's and groaned, not leaving it long before he pulled on Stan's bottom lip with his teeth, growling. "I want you _now_."

Stan groaned into Christophe's mouth at the words before speaking, kissing it with great need. "H-Have you done this before?"

"Oui." Christophe moved his arms and stroked Stan's waist. "Both ways so I know what I'm doing." He sucked on Stan's neck again.

Stan was relieved, in capable hands, so he groaned and agreed, tilting his neck back. "G-Good then. Let's do this."

"D'accord." Christophe smirked and trailed his hand down, rubbing Stan through his jeans. This motion sent a shockwave down Stan's spine and an uncontrollable desperation for things to hurry up. He slipped his own hands down the back of Christophe's pants, using the moment to feel _his_ behind. He wasn't surprised to find it was tight and felt very toned. He squeezed it until Christophe pulled back, taking Stan's pants with him. They came all the way down that time and were thrown to the floor, along with Christophe's.

Stan licked his lips and sat up a moment to take in Christophe's naked form. He _was_ toned, incredibly so. His thighs were strong and the area between almost made Stan's mouth water. He'd seen plenty of other male's parts, even in a sexual nature when he indulged in watching porn. However he'd never seen one knowing that he could touch it and knowing that it was going to be pleasuring him. It was such a bizarre thought, especially since it definitely wasn't disappointing.

Christophe smirked. "You like eet, Marsh."

Stan blushed. "Mmmm. Yes." He reached his hand forward and ran it down Christophe's chest teasingly, all the way down his stomach and then stopping before he reached the crotch. Christophe bared his teeth and once again pinned Stan down, grinding, this time with nothing between them.

"I'm going to use eet to fuck you."

Stan groaned and ran his hands along Christophe's shoulders. "P-Please do."

Christophe dipped his head, running his teeth over Stan's neck and then attacking it in a kiss that turned into a suck. Stan felt so much pleasure in this one area. He shuddered and continued stroking over the toned hot skin above him until Christophe was satisfied and it would be bound to leave a mark.

When Christophe drew back, Stan felt a twinge of nerves. "I - uh - be careful now. I'm not a virgin but I haven't..." He trailed off.

Christophe looked into Stan's eyes and smiled knowingly. "Say no more." He winked and stroked one of Stan's thighs, squeezing the skin when he got closer to the balls, and then letting go. "You're een good 'ands."

Stan blushed. "I know I am." He watched as Christophe reached under his bed and came back up with a bottle of lube - half-empty. He bit his lip at what this meant; he was having gay sex with someone who obviously knew what he was doing, someone who obviously had other options - whoever they were - and other encounters. It made him wonder why Christophe would want to give him any time at all - they clearly weren't in the same league.

He shook the thoughts from his mind again and flipped onto his stomach. This was about sex. Pure feelings of lust and the chance for a thoughtless fuck. He was a guy - a guy who needed to _stop thinking like a girl_.

Stan's mind slipped back to what was happening in the room when he felt Christophe's hands stroking his behind. He looked over his shoulder and blushed as he saw Christophe's fingers were shining wet.

"Are you ready?"

Stan shifted closer, supporting himself on his knees, allowing Christophe to guide his positioning. He ended up with his ass slightly higher than his head, his hands clutching a pillow. He used his elbows to stay propped up.

"Y-Yeah?"

"You need to relax." Christophe stroked Stan's back with his uncovered hand. "Take a deep breath. Christophe will make zis feel good."

Hearing the confidence in Christophe's voice, Stan took a deep breath and allowed his muscles to lose their tension. It was surprisingly easy with one of Christophe's warm hands massaging slowly over his shoulder. He hardly noticed the other hands slipping down his ass and between the crack, slowly tracing over his entrance.

He gasped as a finger gradually pushed inside him, stopping before it was in the whole way, and then starting again. His muscles automatically wanted to tense around it. _Stop, that's the wrong way. What are you doing? _He took another deep breath and bit his lip when the finger moved. There was a jolt of pain, but as it continued moving, slowly slipping out and then back in, Stan found an element of pleasure to it. This pleasure grew when Christophe introduced a second finger and began stretching him.

"God, damn, you're so tight." Christophe scissored his fingers slowly, causing Stan to groan.

"I-Is that bad? Will it be a problem?" He didn't want anything to get in their way, not when it was already feeling so good.

"Non, eet's no problem." Christophe moved his fingers faster, pushing further into Stan. He leant forward. "Eet's like you're a brand new toy ready to be played with." Stan could feel hot breath on the back of his neck which made him shiver. If he wasn't worried about causing himself pain he would have turned around and grabbed Christophe in another heated kiss. He couldn't even form a reply.

"Mmmnn," was all he could say. Christophe chuckled and pulled his fingers out. Tension filled the air and Stan heard the cap of the lube bottle open again. Christophe covered his member as much as he could and even ran some more around Stan's entrance to make the process as smooth and painless as possible. He positioned himself careful, pushing against Stan a few times without going inside, running a hand comfortingly down his back and then holding his hips.

Stan was so desperate, so ready. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment and he knew he had no chance of calming down until he got it.

He gasped at the moment when Christophe's member finally made its way inside him, very carefully but not stopping. It seemed to fill him and though his muscles and body were protesting, they were also providing tremors of pleasure which he knew had to intensify. The first groan that came from his mouth was a pained one but after that, they began transforming, as Christophe slowly moved, it became what he was waiting for.

Stan groaned loudly and pressed back. "F-Fuck!" He held the pillow in front of him tighter at each thrust of delight. Christophe's grunts came irregularly from behind him, so raw and sexual, never letting Stan forget exactly who he was having sex with. _Christophe fucking DeLorne_. He was pretty much anyone's fantasy guy, be they girl or boy. The female population was out of luck, but he apparently had a lot of it.

Unless this was all a dream and he was still lying unconscious outside Gregory's house.

Christophe's lips trailed over his shoulder and kissed the skin which had started to perspire. Each kiss seemed to burn, heating his skin past any level he thought it could go. Stan groaned. If it _was_ a dream, he was going to enjoy it.

"Fuck, Stan, you feel so good." The pressure of the kisses increased and Stan felt his hips gripped tighter.

Stan just repeated, "Fuck," in reply, taking in ever movement.

He soon felt himself throbbing and knew that release wasn't long away. He couldn't hold out for long, not with this completely new and overwhelming sensation filling every part of him, not with Christophe being the one giving it to him. He was lucky he wasn't able to see Christophe because he knew that would have made him come within seconds, before they'd barely begun.

Christophe thrust harder, and with a small change in direction, hit a spot inside Stan which made him scream. It was a pleasure that burned through him, a delicious mix of shock and ecstasy delivered with the promise of later pain. But the pain didn't matter, Stan wanted to scream.

"Oh, shit, yes!" He closed his eyes and clawed at the pillow. "Right there!"

Christophe hit it again and groaned. Stan screamed even louder, knowing he couldn't take many of those before he lost it.

"Again!"

After a few more incredible thrusts, Christophe's hand closed around his member. Every feeling increased. Stan choked a loud groan. "Chris-tophe!" He felt Christophe's hand start to move and groaned again. To have such sensations in two places was more than his body could bear, and they both knew it.

Christophe's thrusts slowed as his hand movement increased, and with a choked sob of pleasure, Stan came over hand and sheets. All that stopped him from collapsing was Christophe gripping him fiercely around the hips again. He felt Christophe make a few more jerked movements, and then pull out of him. A deep and long moan signified that he was coming, this being backed up when Stan felt a warmth falling over his back.

"Marsh!" Christophe panted, still clutching him. "Fuck! You... damn."

"Mmnnn."

Christophe moved him across the bed and set him down, careful to avoid the soiled part of the sheets. Stan didn't expect him to think like that and was pleasantly surprised, even more so when he felt a soft material - a shirt - running over his back, cleaning him. He slowly turned around and looked at Christophe, taking in the flushed cheeks, ruffled hair, tired but satisfied eyes that would have made him hungry for more had it been physically possible. He kissed him a final time, slower than before, then pulled away and smiled.

"Wow." Christophe smiled back with every inch of his face - something Stan had never seen before. He found it almost hypnotising, still gazing as Christophe collapsed down on his bed, his head hitting a pillow.

Stan didn't know how to reply, or what to do. He just collapsed next to Christophe and stared at the ceiling, trying to get his bearings. "Yeah." It hit him that he had no idea what time it was. "What time is it?"

Christophe looked over at his alarm clock and chuckled. "Eet ees eleven." Stan was prepared to jump out of bed and scream that he was past his curfew when he felt Christophe put a hand on his arm. "I... don't think it's wise eef you walk anywhere tonight, wiz ze head and ankle... and ass... you won't get far..."

"Oh." Stan bit his lip. "What should I do?"

"...You should get some sleep." Christophe pulled the blankets up around them.

Stan's mind blanked, nothing remained but the thought of spending the night in Christophe's bed, sleeping next to _him_. Home really wasn't important to him. Being next to somebody, now that sounded nice. He remembered that his mom was spending the night at her boyfriend's house anyway, so she'd never know he didn't get home...

"Okay. If that's alright, I guess."

Christophe shrugged. "Makes no difference to me." He lay on his back and closed his eyes. His body seemed to be turned towards Stan, fitting what he would do, leaving a space. Stan bit his lip and edged just a little closer to Christophe. He sighed in relief when Christophe's arm wrapped lazily around his shoulder and closed his eyes. He was curling up next to warmth and just for a little while was able to forget.

And it actually felt quite nice.

* * *

The next morning Stan woke up to a mixture of feelings and sensations, not all of them that pleasant. First was the aching, in his head but more prominently in his ass. The bruising soreness momentarily went unexplained until the scent of someone else entered his nostrils, and then the feel of warm arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

He gasped and shot into a sitting position, immediately screaming in pain and falling back down again. "Godamnit!" he yelled. "That fucking hurts!"

Christophe grunted awake and shot up next to him, looking around with half-open eyes. "What? What ees eet?" He linked eyes with Stan and frowned, then looked down at where Stan's hands had shot and laughed. "Sore ass? I remember zat." He smiled sympathetically. "It will get better soon."

Stan blushed. "Good."

Christophe rubbed his eyes and leant to his bedside table in search of a cigarette. "Last night was fun."

"Yeah." Stan bit his lip. "You were good with me. And... thanks again for taking care of me... in both respects."

"Eet was my pleasure... literally."

Stan rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm gonna get dressed... yeah." He awkwardly slid out of the bed and slowly got up, wanting to stretch but not wanting to make any provocative movements, especially by sticking his ass in the air. He felt conscious of himself, wondering whether Christophe was watching him or not. The Frenchman had already seen _everything, _but for some reason Stan didn't want him seeing. He would notice the negatives more in the light, he was sure. And Stan knew that if he were to observe Christophe, he wouldn't see any.

He pulled his shirt and pants on quickly_, _but having to bend down slowly to get them - just more opportunity for Christophe to look at him.

When he was ready, he turned back to Christophe, who was still in bed, but sat up and lighting a cigarette.

"Your shirts on inside out," commented the French boy before taking a long drag.

Stan pulled it off quickly to sort it out, then frowned. "Wait, no it wasn't!" He looked at Christophe in confusion. Christophe just grinned back and trailed his eyes over Stan's chest.

"Oui, I know."

Stan blushed and quickly put it back on again. "I should - uh go."

"You can stay for breakfast," Christophe offered nonchalantly. "Eef eet's easier since we 'av school soon."

"I should go home, change my clothes..." Stan looked down at the ground. "Hope my mom didn't get home early."

"What will you tell her?"

"That I ended up crashing at a friend's." Stan rubbed the back of his neck. "And was too tired to call. Uh, it should work." He nodded. "Uh... bye then."

"See you round, Marsh," replied Christophe with a smile, but it was a smile that meant no more than friendship. Stan smiled back and left.

He was sure he'd been happy at the thought of it only being a one-night thing but the flipping in his stomach said otherwise. He frowned as he walked slowly down the pavement of the cold morning. Christophe was Gregory's best friend. He was not someone Stan should spend his time around. He was rude, violent, quick-tempered... passionate, hot, caring, soft to cuddle...

_Shit._

* * *

**A/N: Gosh, that was long. I hope you enjoyed it? There is the possibility (because it's me) that this could have more parts... but I'm not sure whether to pursue it as a story or not, so please tell me your highly important thoughts! :D Thank you! **


	2. Pain and Promises

**A/N: Yep... it's a proper story now with more parts to come. Thank you if you're one of the amazing people that left a review. I love you and so does Stan.**

* * *

Stan's morning was going quite as well as he'd expected considering the pain he was in, with three different areas competing for the most attention. Over both his head and his ankle combined, his rear end certainly won that competition. It was a pain that took throbbing and sent an evil piercing through it at regular intervals. Stan was sitting on pins, without even sitting. In fact, the very thought of sitting was making him almost sweat, even in the freezing weather.

Luckily, his mother hadn't been at home when he got back. There was a message on the ansaphone from her, assuming Stan was still asleep and saying she'd be going straight from her boyfriend's to work. Stan had taken a quick shower - the hot water helping a little for the sore muscles that hanging from a tree could lead to, but doing nothing for the other pains. He almost felt like faking sickness and taking the day off. Indeed, he certainly would have if not for the growing feeling inside of him that wanted to see Christophe.

It had played over in his head all the way home, in the shower, eating breakfast - different scenarios. Stan would casually bump into him and make a clever remark, then smirk and walk away. Christophe would think him a terribly smooth and intriguing person, so cool about one-night stands, like he had them all the time. Christophe would follow him wanting to know more; Stan would have him hooked.

Then he realised that this was so implausible, because Christophe knew he'd never done _that _before. And what type of smooth person gets stuck in a tree?

Instead he thought of engaging Christophe in a casual talk about a mutual interest, or something in the news. But then of course realised no; he'd seem pathetic, because he had no idea what their mutual interests were and he didn't read the news... Besides, Christophe had much better things to do than talk to Stan.

When he saw that the only probable scenario was that they'd both leave the other alone like they didn't exist, or at least were only ever made to speak by a common link (Gregory), who did not help them get along, Stan's minds turned to other things. These were the implausible scenarios; the ones he only rationalised he was having as a remembrance of the intense pleasure from the previous night, and not any other possible feelings.

He started to see him and Christophe meeting in the corridor, eyes linking, hearts racing. They would step closer to each other, perfectly in sync; arms fluidly outstretching and grazing past. A small spark would run between them and around their bodies. The spark would be a magnet that would bring their chests closer, as the arms continued their movements. Christophe's hands would find Stan's waist at precisely the same time Stan's would find Christophe's shoulders.

There would be a moment, right before the inevitable kiss, where breath would meet and bodies would shift to the simultaneous rise and fall of their chests, and their eyes would slowly close; the bright green leaving Stan's sight and into his mind, where it would intensify, the colour flowing as a kiss fell onto his lips. Stan would groan; Christophe would groan. Their bodies would react so suddenly that they'd have to hide somewhere, or else screw it and kiss fervently in plain sight.

He had a few of these day-dreams on his way to school. Luckily Kyle had given both him and Bebe a lift that day. And with Bebe sitting in the front, taking most of Kyle's attention, Stan's silence and far-away look wasn't questioned.

He only really had his first proper conversation of the day when an annoying voice by the lockers cut through his silence. So British and perfectly formed, every word rolling together and fitting the next to create a sentence of not only words but feelings. And Stan's was primarily hatred.

"Get out of my way, Stanley."

Stan jolted and turned from his locker into the arrogant, stupid smirking face of Gregory Thorne. He could tell without looking down that Gregory would be wearing a crisp expensive shirt and tight-fitting pants designed so everyone could look at how amazing his legs and ass were. Stan scowled and flicked his eyes down - light blue shirt, navy trousers.

"Just go around, you dick," he growled in reply. "There's plenty of room."

Gregory sighed dramatically and raised his eyebrows at Stan, as if Stan was the one out of line. "You have to try starting an argument, don't you? You can't just simply step aside with a smile and avoid all this?"

"I don't take directions from you." Stan narrowed his eyes. "There's plenty of room to _walk around_."

Gregory shook his head and walked around Stan like he was doing him a great favour. Stan felt like punching him. He turned back to rummage in his locker but it looked like Gregory had no intention of leaving.

"What is it?" snapped Stan.

"I just feel like a chat." Gregory leant against a locker and smiled in fake innocence. He put one hand on his hip as if the action came naturally - there was definitely something about Gregory that seemed to scream 'gay', though stealing Wendy suggested otherwise. "How are you?"

"Not good since I'm being harassed by an arrogant blond who needs to learn how to fuck off."

"That's a shame; I really wish I could help you."

"You can, by getting lost."

"Well I _am_ supposed to be meeting Wendy now," bragged Gregory. Stan didn't want this comment to have any effect on him, but it did. He knew he no longer had romantic feelings for Wendy (she wasn't a boy). The jolt of hatred came instead because of how easily Gregory won her over. All it took was a few carefully planned lines, a waft of his scent, a gaze into his eyes. Even with a prominent place on the football team, Stan felt so second-rate. Kyle could point out as many girls as possible who seemed interested in him but Stan was only bothered by how Gregory was _better_.

"Good for you."

"It's going very well with her." Gregory smirked.

"I don't give a fuck."

"Well you obviously didn't give a good enough one to keep her. That's why she so readily came to me."

_Just one punch. One punch in that arrogant face._ Stan sighed and shook his head, slamming his locker and deciding not to rise to it. It was such a cleverly placed remark because Stan worried that he had never been good enough sexually for Wendy, finding that he was gradually getting less excited by her, his mind always guiltily flicking to imagining hot men to keep him in the mood. He still thought he loved her at that point and tried not to dwell on it, tried to repress it and keep her, keep the normality.

"Where did you get that?" Gregory poked Stan's neck. Stan jumped back and glared at him, smacking a hand to his neck. _The one moment of the day he'd loosened his coat a little. _

"None of your business."

"Ohhh. Stan's got a secret lover." Gregory smirked. "Who?"

"Fuck off. I'm not telling you anything."

"Why? Is he terribly embarrassing."

Stan's eyes went wide. "W-What do you mean, _he_?"

Gregory rolled his eyes. "You're so gay, Stanley. Don't even try to deny it."

Stan shook his head and frowned. "So are you. Leave me alone." He turned to storm away (because he had no idea how to reply) but walked smack into Christophe. Their heads collided with a force that Stan really could have done without, and Christophe probably wished to avoid as well. He'd never noticed the French boy the other side of him, too caught up in his hatred for Gregory.

This was not how he'd planned 'running into him' at all!

Christophe glared. "Did I ask for a kiss, Marsh?" He walked around him to stand next to Gregory and raised his eyebrow at Stan's neck. It looked as if he was surprised by his own work. He wiped the expression and turned to Gregory. "Let's go, beetch."

Stan zipped his coat back up to hide the mark and felt even more hatred at having both Christophe and Gregory there together. He felt the overwhelming need to make it appear like he hated Christophe. It was weird but he felt like the truth between them needed to be very hidden.

Gregory nodded. "Yes, do come on. I'm going to go see my beautiful girlfriend..."

"Once again I really don't give a fuck!" snapped Stan.

Gregory smirked and turned around, then seemed to catch the eye of his English teacher and remember something. "Oh, I need to talk to Mr Evans about tomorrow."

Stan watched him go and gritted his teeth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Christophe smirk, and turned with a slightly quickening pulse to look at him.

"Eet sounds like you _do_ give a fuck, Marsh," he whispered. Leaning closer he added, "A very good one." He winked and then turned to follow Gregory.

Stan could tell he was violently blushing without even feeling his cheeks or looking in a mirror. He stared after Christophe, eyes taking in his body, trailing down his shoulders and back, all the way to that incredible ass. Memories from the previous night entered his head. He imagined Christophe's pants disappearing and his own hands reaching out slowly to cup...

It caused him great alarm when Christophe glanced over his shoulder and saw from down the corridor that Stan was still staring at him. Stan jumped and span around, urgently walking towards the bathroom. He wasn't quick enough to avoid hearing Christophe's strangely magical laugh.

And screw what Gregory said. If Christophe said that Stan gave a good fuck, well, that was just fine.

* * *

The rest of the day went by very slowly, but he'd managed to stay fairly hidden. It wasn't often that Stan didn't want attention from everyone; he loved attention. Anything that would make him popular was a good thing, right? He was respected and not just because of sports: people mainly thought that he was a nice guy, one who was pleasant and occasionally tried to make a difference.

This popular opinion could and probably would change if everyone found out he'd taken it up the ass, even if the person who gave it was one of the hottest but most feared in the school. Everyone knew that Christophe had no need or concern to harm any of them. Sure at times he'd gotten angry, but physical violence was only used when someone was deliberately asking for it. Generally if you were polite to him, you'd be fine, and probably ignored.

Saying this, even the councillor seemed to keep his distance. Rumours had circulated that he'd been shot before, others that he'd been the one doing the shooting. Another said that he slept with his shovel in case one of his enemy's tried to capture him in the night. And some people simply stated that he was a very fucked up guy, with a severe hatred of God and should be avoided. (Though you'd be excused for melting under his hot, French charm if he showed interest. Most of the girls in the school had dreamed in some way.)

It was like Stan saw a massive difference between who everyone said Christophe was and how he had actually acted.

It was the afternoon of the next day, when Stan was nervously standing in the gym changing rooms and wanting to cry over the painful thought of running the expected four-thousand metres, that Christophe made another appearance. Stan was not yet changed, nervously staring down at his kit and wondering how he was going to put in on without everyone seeing him wincing, and more importantly how he was going to be able to hide his hickey. It wasn't looking good.

Christophe glanced around and then walked over to him, throwing his stuff down. "You want out?"

Stan frowned and moved closer to him, catching a hint of his scent and trying to act casual through the thump of his heart. "What do you mean?"

"Play along; I'll get you out."

"How?"

But Christophe held his hand up to stop Stan talking as the coach walked in. "Stop trying to act like some little hero, Marsh," he said loudly. "We don't want an hour of staring at your pained face."

Stan stared at him in confusion. "But-"

"We all know how much your ankle ees hurting. Just get eet eento zat Jock head of yours zat you're not invincible."

The coach looked over and sighed. "What is it now? Someone trying to get out of running?"

"Non, eet's ze opposite, sir." Christophe rolled his eyes. "Marsh ees een serious pain wiz 'is ankle but won't admit eet. He wants to run. He's going to hold us all back and do himself damage."

"Just get over yourself and sit this one out," snapped the coach. "I want that ankle healed for the next football game."

Stan stared at him in shock. "...Okay."

"Good." The coach nodded. "Hurry up and get changed, the lot of you and then get to the track." He threw a clipboard at Stan. "You can take the times, hero boy."

Stan stared down and nodded. "Right..." He looked back at Christophe when the coach had left with a shocked face. "Dude, how did you do that?"

Christophe shrugged. "Just knowing what to say." He smirked. "Since I created your pain, I'm glad I could 'elp soothe eet." He laughed. "You're lucky Gregory isn't here or else I'd have never got away wiz 'elping you."

Stan nodded, only knowing too well the truth of those words. He looked around. "Where is Gregory?"

Christophe pulled his shirt off, making Stan's eyes flick to gaze at his chest before he even knew what he was doing. He had to control himself not to reach his arms out and touch it, pull Christophe closer to him and kiss it. Suddenly he felt very aware of all the people around them. Luckily Kyle and Kenny had already left to the track, meaning that they couldn't notice his sudden and strange interactions with the French boy they avoided.

Christophe raised an eyebrow. "You wanted to know about Gregory?"

Stan flicked his eyes back up to the more appropriate area of Christophe's face.

"Well, he's at a funeral, eef you must know." Christophe pulled on his gym shirt and then sweater. "His Grandma's. She moved to America when they did and lived wiz zem."

"Oh." Stan's expression fell straight. He didn't know what he could possibly say to that, so they both fell silent and when Christophe had finished changing, slowly made their way to the track.

* * *

Stan didn't know how the coach expected some of them to even run four-thousand metres at all. It shouldn't take long if run correctly but he knew some of them would be doing it for ages. Where if you said the average time was about fifteen minutes, they'd double it.

Stan was going to watch them all equally, take the chance to see how long it took a person to start falling back, stop running for a while even. He wanted to see who was too unfit or didn't care enough (and walked it). He wanted to see who was good and bad, which people it was good for him to beat and the ones it would be embarrassing not to. He usually finished third of fourth when they did long distance - Christophe always first, Gregory second, then either him or Gary depending on the circumstances of the day.

However when they started running, Stan knew that his eyes were fixed on only one person, and it was clear why. Christophe's legs in Christophe's shorts were a sight he could not afford to miss. He owed it to himself as a member of the gay community to look. The way they moved, the defined muscle, every line, every curve, every hair, it was all _perfect_. Stan watched the way the material clung to his thigh with each forward movement and then fell loose again, repeating over. He watched Christophe's ass and remembered the way it felt, in his mind seeing through the fabric.

Stan realised that despite the cold weather, he was becoming rather hot. With his face flushed red, he stared down to regain control of himself. When he looked up again, Christophe was just passing, staring straight at him. They both turned their heads away when they met eyes and Stan only found it safe to look when Christophe was on the other side of the track.

With Christophe almost finished his third lap, most people were still struggling with completing the second (save for Gary who was around half a lap behind Christophe). Stan hated how quickly the French boy was doing it because it meant less time watching. Christophe was still keeping an effortless and steady speed - Was he even trying? Stan felt like shouting at him just to see if he could run faster.

He decided not to.

Instead, he kept watching, clapping Kyle whenever he ran past but keeping his eyes focused on just one individual. He even found himself watching how Christophe's arms moved, and how his hair ruffled in the wind with the rhythm he was keeping. It looked so good on Christophe's head.

He waited for Christophe to finish and then picked up the pen, spinning it nervously in his fingers. He heard the coach yell a time and then saw Christophe walking over to him. He'd expected to be told a time and left, but Christophe smirked and sat next to him, pink-cheeked and radiating warmth. He stretched his legs out before him and Stan had to stop himself from gazing at the way the shorts had ridden up on one leg.

Stan smiled. "Time?"

"Eleven minutes, fifty-eight seconds," Christophe replied, no trace of change in breath, no hint that he'd been running for almost twelve minutes.

"Right." Stan wrote it in. That beat Stan's record by two minutes, five seconds, and Stan would be feeling it a lot more afterwards. "That's really impressive."

"Eh." Christophe shrugged. "Good enough for school." He kept the smirk on his face and very slowly reached out his arm, not saying anything and pulling Stan's collar back. He looked at the mark on Stan's neck again, this time seeming to take his time. "Wow, I really got you good."

Stan blushed and looked out over the people who were passing - the red faces of the less fit, some even walking (Cartman), and being screamed at by the coach but not caring. "Yeah."

Just then, Gary finished his last lap, being yelled a time at. He panted and nodded, red-faced. Christophe dropped his hand as Gary grinned to himself and jogged over to Stan.

"Hey, Gary!" Stan smiled and waited, ignoring how hot his neck felt.

"Hey, Stan," panted Gary, taking a deep breath and smiling through it. "I got my time... I think... I beat my best."

"Go ahead." Stan picked up the pen.

"Thirteen, forty." Gary grinned.

Stan sighed and wrote it down. "Congratulations, dude, you've done it again. You can have third place back." He had to smile at Gary's laugh as a reply - that boy was so happy. It also amused him because Gary was approaching Gregory's personal best. "But once my ankle's better, you're going down."

"We'll see," replied Gary. "But I think you're turning into an old man. Bad ankle, bad head." He rolled his eyes. "You need to take better care of yourself."

"I-"

Christophe interrupted. "Ze idiot cannot take care of himself. He'd probably end up doing something stupid, like getting caught in a tree or falling over eef he did..."

Gary laughed. "Well nobody can watch him all the time - they'd go insane!" He grinned cheekily at Stan. "No offence, buddy."

Christophe laughed as well and then sighed dramatically. "I will take on ze burden and make sure Grandpa gets through ze day." He smirked. "Not do anything stupid by himself. No, he needs company for that."

"Whatever you say," replied Gary, who stepped aside so Token could give in his time to a blushing Stan. They both left together, discussing the previous night's football results and laughing. People always seemed to laugh with the ever-bright Gary.

Christophe leaned closer to Stan and smirked. "So where were we? How's your ass coping?"

"It's sore, dude," admitted Stan in embarrassment. "Not pleasant... but totally worth it! I m-mean, yeah... It was good, not that it wouldn't be."

"I love your awkwardness. Eet's really very endearing."

"I - uh - thanks..." Was that something to say thanks for? Did Christophe mean it? Stan looked into Christophe's eyes, which were staring back and looked extraordinarily green in the bright light. He saw interest and kindness in them like he'd never seen before. It was so strange. He'd always assumed he hated Christophe because of Gregory, but he didn't at all. This boy was nothing like the one he'd observed over the years - the anti-social, defensive, carries-a-shovel boy.

This one cared for you when you were unconscious, saw to your wounds and then had hot sex after caressing your ass. This one offered to make breakfast and sat with you. This one you were developing a massive crush on and everything in you wanted to kiss him again.

Stan couldn't pull his eyes away from Christophe, but it seemed Christophe was also having trouble doing the same. The link was only interrupted when Clyde poked him, demanding for him to take down a time. Stan did so awkwardly, feeling Christophe's eyes still on him.

They never said anything as the rest of the times came in. It was only when coach dismissed them and Stan stood up that Christophe grabbed his arm, pulling up too and leaning to whisper in his ear:

"You're at your mozer's tonight?"

Stan bit his lip and watched Christophe's eyes flick down to it. He felt his heart rate increase. "Yes."

Christophe's lips curved into a smile. "I'll be zere."


	3. Death and Deals

_A/N: Wow! Thank you for your reviews! Nice to see there's faith in this. I've opened a packet of Jelly babies and you're welcome to have one! (Be careful; they're addictive.)_

* * *

Stan could sense tension as soon as he stepped inside his house. He'd seen Alan (that was his mom's boyfriend) pull out of the drive just as Kyle had dropped him by it, and he did not look happy. He glanced at his mom, who was frowning and viciously attacking clothes with the iron like she wanted to burn them.

"Uh, hi, Mom."

She flicked her eyes up and replied, "Hello, Stanley," in an impatient tone.

"Is... everything alright?"

"Yes, fine," she snapped.

"I thought Alan was having dinner here tonight?" Stan bit his lip.

"Well he's not anymore." She frowned up at him. "Don't you have homework to do or something?"

"I... yeah." Stan smiled faintly and kicked his shoes off before heading to his room. She sometimes asked him how his day had been, but as soon as there was a bigger concern - something happening in her life with a boyfriend, or work, or even his dad, Stan would practically be forgotten. Adults in the town had a skill for completely overlooking their children.

Sometimes when he was alone in his house, his mom out somewhere, no other people left, Stan would listen to the silence and cry (not for long and not hard, but still tears). It wasn't that he was really unhappy; he just craved comfort. He thought that could have been a reason he held onto Wendy for as long as he could - she used to listen. It probably started to annoy her - Stan acting depressed and sucking sympathy from her. That was probably another reason Gregory triumphed.

Stan sighed and sat at his desk, starting at his homework. He couldn't quite concentrate with the promise from Christophe hanging over him, but he wanted to try to forget it if he could. He had no idea when Christophe would arrive and for what reason and wasn't going to get his hopes up or imagine scenarios that would ultimately lead to him getting embarrassed when Christophe _did_ arrive.

After completing his homework and getting some food - gathering his mom wouldn't be making dinner - Christophe still hadn't arrived. Stan sat on his bed mindlessly listening to music and trying to not get upset or concerned, when his phone rang. It made him jump. With a quick glance at the caller ID he smiled and answered. "Kenny."

"Stan, hey!"

"What can I do for you?"

"I wasn't saying anything yesterday, but I can't resist."

Stan sighed and collapsed backwards with his eyes closed - this ought to be good. "What is it?"

"Did you take it up the ass?"

"W-what? K-Kenny!" Stan spluttered, opening his eyes and sitting up in alarm, almost dropping the phone. "How could you... Why would you accuse me of that?"

"You did!" Stan could almost feel Kenny's smug grin closing around him - a grin whose sound would be a sexual groan and would most likely leave you feel somewhat violated and dirty. "Go Stan!"

Stan knew there was no point trying to deny it. He'd tried to deny truths to Kenny before (about his homosexuality) and it had not been worth it. Kenny had badgered him and made so many knowing innuendoes that Stan had given in and admitted the truth. Now it looked like he was going to do it again.

"Yeah, Ken, I had sex... with a dude."

"I'm so proud of you."

Stan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How did you know?"

"You said your ankle is what hurt, right? Well surely sitting down would be a relief to get off your ankle, but you looked in even more pain. Plus you've been blushing and looking so spaced out. There has to be a guy involved."

"Mmhmm."

"Who?" asked Kenny in excitement. "Is he hot? Please tell me I know him! Is it Craig?"

"What?" Stan held the phone away from his face and stared at it for a moment and then brought it back to his ear. "No way is it Craig, dude."

"Kyle?"

"Kyle is completely and madly in love with his girlfriend! And he's like a brother to me!"

"But he's so hot, how can you resist? If I liked guys, it would be him. I love red-heads!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Then you have my blessing. Be warned though, you go anywhere near his 'hot ass' and Bebe will rip you apart."

"Hmmm." He heard Kenny fall into silence for a moment, probably thinking of more people in the class he'd like to see fuck Stan. "... Gary? Gregory?"

"Okay, Gary's a _Mormon_ and if you think the second one is possible then you need locking up. And I'm not telling you anyway."

"Awww, come on!" Kenny begged in an amused tone. "It sounds like it _could be_ Gregory."

"NO!"

"Are you sure?" teased Kenny.

"I have never had sex with Gregory!" Stan snapped.

"Me neizer," came a voice from behind him.

Stan gasped and span around, taking in the brown pants, green shirt, toned chest, gorgeous face and glowing eyes of Christophe DeLorne. He held a hand to his head and stared.

"... Is that a French accent I hear?" Kenny asked. "It's Christophe!"

"N-No," Stan stuttered. "No it's not - I - NO! I have to go!" He hung up the phone quickly and threw it on the bed, still in complete shock. Christophe was in his room having overheard some of the conversation, and Kenny had just worked him out. Shit.

Stan groaned and went bright red. "I didn't... hear you come in?"

"Your mozer let me een."

Stan frowned. "Did she ask who you were at all?"

"Non, I just said I was a friend of yours and she let me up. She seemed... distracted?" Christophe raised his eyebrows slightly. "Talking angrily on ze phone to someone called Randy..."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Right, my dad."

"But zey're separated, right?"

"They still argue, just not as intensely. It's mostly about selling the house." Stan stopped talking as he realised Christophe probably didn't care about any of it. Instead he awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. "Kenny guessed about us. I mean not _us,_ me... I mean... actually I think he knows it's you."

Christophe nodded. "Zat's okay. I never said to keep eet a secret."

"No... but we are, right?"

Christophe shrugged. "I haven't told anyone."

Stan nodded. "Uh, you can, sit, or whatever... I don't..."

"You don't know why I'm here?"

"Well, sort of. I mean... I'm really happy you said you were coming, but why do you want to come over?"

Rather than answer with words, Christophe walked across the floor and sat next to Stan on the bed, turning to him with a smirk. Stan's heart beat faster and breath hitched as he sensed what Christophe's next actions would be. He felt Christophe's breath falling over his tingling lips, to be followed by warmth as he placed a kiss to them lightly. He soon kissed harder, running his hands over Stan's shoulders.

Stan melted. Another of his fantasies had been Christophe appearing in his room and grabbing him in a kiss. (It looked like one of them had been right.) He thought he heard something in Christophe's tone at the track, but he didn't believe it could be true. Why would the French boy want to kiss _him_ on two separate occasions?

Stan's took at deep breath and blushed as Christophe drew away. "Oh."

"Zat blush..." Christophe pressed his lips back onto Stan's and pushed him down onto his back, successfully straddling him around the hips. He groaned into the kiss, making it clear to Stan how much he was enjoying it. This sent Stan into a further blush as he kissed back, trying to control his crotch from reacting. When he felt Christophe's hips bumping against his, memories of their night flooded into his head, and with a gasp, he felt himself grow hard.

Christophe moved his lips from Stan's mouth to his jaw, laying kisses along. "I wanted to talk to you," he murmured, voice distractingly lustful, suggesting more. "But your awkwardness ees distracting."

"Mmhmm." Stan gripped onto Christophe's shoulders, gasping from the slow-moving rhythm of Christophe's hips, having the perfect teasing effect on what was now Stan's hard erection that there was no use in hiding. He knew Christophe could feel it. "God."

Christophe grunted and shifted, sitting and pulling Stan into his lap. He undid the buttons on Stan's pants and then seemed to decide on pulling them off completely. Stan moved to complete this action, and then sat back on Christophe's lap facing him, legs straddling either side. Christophe pulled on the elastic of Stan's waistband before moving his hand inside the boxers.

"Not free-balling today zen," he whispered.

Stan gasped as Christophe's warm hand wrapped around his hard member, the action immediately feeling so good. He couldn't believe that something was happening again. It hardly seemed like it was meant to be. He groaned and clutched the sheets beside Christophe. "Shit."

Christophe's hand began to move, and with the movements, Stan's mind began to shut off, his body moving to accommodate more pleasure. He felt his back arch and his chest move closer to Christophe's, until they were just touching.

Christophe momentarily interrupted his rhythm to swipe his thumb over the head, earning a loud gasp from Stan and a jerk of his hips. When Christophe returned to a slightly faster place, Stan found himself pushing his head into Christophe's shoulder. The smell and warmth overcame him and he felt his body throbbing as his heart fluttered. They were boasting of ecstasy and happiness, and Stan had to admit he liked them to. It wasn't often they felt such feelings so intensely.

He gasped and pushed his face further into Christophe's shoulder as the speed increased further. "Mmmnn."

"Zat feels good?"

"Mmm-hmm." Stan groaned and blushed furiously, gripping the bed sheets hard. His breathing quickened as the blissful feeling pumped through his whole body, speeded by Christophe's fast hand. The French boy's words also had a remarkable effect.

"You look so hot."

Stan groaned even louder, bucking his hips. He whimpered and felt his stomach tighten. It was so thrilling that he didn't want it to end, but he came with a choked groan into Christophe's hand. He kept his head buried in his shoulder for a little longer, taking in the fast-becoming addictive scent and panting.

"Damn," he grumbled, pulling away and glancing into Christophe's eyes. "Uh..."

Christophe smirked. "I think you enjoyed zat." He looked around. "Do you 'av anything I can wipe my hand on."

"Oh, G-God, sorry!" Stan jumped off his lap and fumbled in his bedside draw until he found an old and crumpled tissue. He figured it would do and gave to Christophe who took it gratefully and cleaned his hand.

Stan didn't know why he felt embarrassed but he did. He made himself decent again by tucking himself back into his boxers. "So... is that what you came over for or what?" He had a feeling it was someone else. He didn't think Christophe had been expecting his body to have that reaction.

"Ah, well partly... Eet's just... zere's something great about being close to you. I was thinking ze sex ze other night was brilliant, oui? And even just zen! And I find eet hard to control my desires to kiss you."

"I... I do agree."

"So I see no reason we can't just... carry zis on." Christophe rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, purely casual. Nothing exclusive, don't worry! I just think it would be a shame to waste whatever eet ees we have... whatever eet ees... Don't you?" A faint trace of a blush came to his cheeks.

Stan stared at him in shock. Was the incredibly hot Christophe DeLorne asking the be what was probably closest to 'friends with benefits', but without really being friends? And was Christophe being nervous about it? Perhaps that was something small in Stan that wanted to refuse, but that was deeply buried and whether it be sense or not, it was being ignored.

Stan could only imagine all the amazing scenarios that could be. All the access to Christophe's body. All that pleasure. And strangely also the thought that this would mean they were around each other more.

He knew his answer.

"Yes. Let's keep this going." He nodded his head. "Just so if we were both in the mood we could... you know... meet up for purely sex... or kissing or whatever..."

"Mmmm, oui, purely zat," repeated Christophe.

Stan bit his lip. "Sounds good."

"Zen we are agreed." Christophe smiled and looked into Stan's eyes, holding the gaze for as long as they had done earlier that day. He looked down at his watch and frowned slightly. "I... I have somewhere to go..."

"No problem."

"...Uh." Christophe scratched his head, hard thinking about something. He sighed. "Oui."

Stan smiled. "So, I'll see you soon... or whenever."

Christophe chuckled. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Stan watched Christophe get up and walk to the door, straightening his shirt and running a hand through his hair. "Night, dude."

"Bonne nuit."

Stan glowed, replaying the conversation in his head just so he knew he'd heard it right. Sex whenever he wanted with Christophe DeLorne... it hardly seemed possible.

* * *

Christophe lit a cigarette and rapidly smoked it as he walked between his two locations, heading not for his house, but someone else's. Last time he'd been at this location he'd had rather a surprise evening. He chuckled and knocked on Gregory's door, wiping any sign of a grin from his face as Gregory's mother answered.

Christophe looked at Gregory's mother and bowed his head slightly. "I am sorry for your loss, Mrs Thorne." He hadn't had the chance to say it until then.

She smiled softly and stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. Christophe was a regular at Gregory's house, and would have been allowed to walk in freely without knocking if he hadn't kept scaring them so much when he did that. (His footsteps were too quiet. He could be in the big house for hours without anyone knowing.) "Thank you, Christophe. At least she's at rest. You know how she was suffering."

"Yes." Christophe took his shoes off as he was listening and left them by the door - you did not want to make a mess in Gregory's spotless house. The cleaner had already attacked him once before when he'd been particularly dirty. Christophe's shovel was banned from inside - he always had to leave her by the door all on her own.

"Gregory's quiet. The service hit him harder than he thought it would, I think. Maybe you can help."

"Ah, maybe." Christophe smiled and with a goodbye he walked up the two sets of stairs to Gregory's room. It was the only bedroom on that floor, along with a study and library. (It was a modern house so the library was more a room with many bookshelves and leather chairs.) Gregory had an ensuite bathroom, complete with a separate bath and shower.

He knocked on Gregory's door and then walked in anyway. "Bonjour, beetch."

Gregory - who was wearing a pair of purple silk pyjamas and lying on his bed making notes from a textbook - looked up and raised his eyebrows. "Hello, Tophe." He suddenly seemed startled, glancing to the clock on his wall and gasping. It was likely that until that point he'd been caught in his own silence, not noticing time pass.

Christophe strode over and slammed the textbook shut. "Eet's late. None of zis. And no one ees expecting you to do any today." He threw the textbook to the floor.

Gregory sighed and sat up. "Don't throw that."

"I don't care." Christophe picked it up though and snatched Gregory's notes away as well, putting them neatly (you wouldn't dare make a mess) on the blond's desk.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Christophe sat on the bed opposite Gregory. "I wanted to check how you were, of course."

"Oh." Gregory frowned. "I'm fine."

"And ze service?" It had been a very small, family funeral.

"It was lovely, Tophe. The songs, the flowers, everything." He sighed. "It doesn't feel quite real that it's all over. It was horrible and shocking when she died, but it wasn't over, was it? We still had the funeral to organise so she hadn't gone. But now we've sent her away."

Christophe nodded, understanding what Gregory meant. He crawled so he was sitting next to his friend and threw an arm over his shoulder. "Ah, oui, but now she's at peace." He held Gregory tighter when the blond put his head against his shoulder. "And she will never be forgotten."

"But I already miss her." A few tears came to Gregory's eyes - it was so rare he cried that it was all the more meaningful. "The house feels so empty. I don't have her to talk to when I get home from school! She always listened to my day, because she had time for me. She wasn't busy like mother or away a lot like father. Grandma always listened."

Christophe could remember that too. Gregory's Grandma had even enjoyed talking to _him_. The amount of stories she knew about some of the things they did and their different encounters over the years made him laugh. There wasn't much Gregory couldn't say to his Grandma - they'd been so alike. He'd even heard her mention Stan and her second-hand disliking for him.

Christophe repressed what would have been am inappropriate chuckle and stroked Gregory's hair softly. It wasn't the time to be thinking about Stan.

Gregory sighed softly and closed his eyes. "That's nice."

Christophe smiled and moved them so they were lying down, continuing the soothing movements. Gregory probably had a terrible headache and overwhelming tiredness. It spoke volumes that Wendy wasn't the one holding and comforting him. He knew Gregory had no romantic feelings for her, because Gregory was completely gay.

It had taken stealing her from Stan to see that. Now, he just thought Gregory was scared to let her go, like it was obvious Stan had been. Having a girlfriend took the heat off them. But it wouldn't last much longer. Christophe could see it was falling apart.

He kissed Gregory's forehead and smiled. "Get some sleep, mon ami."

Gregory groaned in a sleepy murmur and let go of him to slip under his duvet and pull it around him. "Get in," he grumbled.

"Oui." Christophe chucked his pants off without a care and got under the covers. It was something the two of them had done for many years, since they first met. Gregory's bed had seemed so big and so comfy when they were seven, giving them plenty of room to spread out. As they grew older and bigger, they just naturally adapted, never awkward. Even with Gregory having a girlfriend they still secretly cuddled. Christophe wasn't close to many people but he didn't mind cuddling with Gregory.

But then, he strangely hadn't minded cuddling with Stan either... and that had been a weird occurrence. He'd been able to tell that Stan wanted it and for some reason, so did he. He was the one who told Stan to stay and wrapped an arm around him. And now he'd been the one to ask for more, make sure what they were doing carried on, for whatever reason.

There was something about Stan Marsh, something in those deep blue eyes that wasn't entirely different from the blond he was holding. He could see how deeply they both craved and needed comfort. And for some reason, he'd found himself giving it to both of them.

It had to remain separate, because to bring the two together sounded like hell. He feared Gregory's reaction if he found out about recent activities with Stan, just like he feared Stan feeling second-rate if he knew Christophe had left his only to be with Gregory (but that was for a very good reason).

Christophe felt Gregory's arm wrap around his waist and closed his eyes. "It will get better," he whispered.

Gregory's voice was weak and broken. "I know, but when?"

"When it gets better." Christophe held Gregory close and stroked his arm, comforting the blond into sleep.


	4. Shirts and Stews

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews! *eyes water with happiness* I do so appreciate it and I hope this story will answer your questions soon!**

* * *

Stan was no longer in pain. The piercing that had turned to a dull ache, disappeared in the night. A good sleep really had done wonders and he was feeling more energised than he had in a long time. He ate breakfast with a grin on his face, which was only taken away when he opened the front door.

Kenny was waiting in his truck. Stan frowned, having been expecting Kyle. But Kenny yelled his name and waved him over like he was expecting such a reaction. Stan sighed - it was too early for the array of questions that were bound to come. He poked his head through Kenny's open - though it was too cold for such a thing - window.

"I told Kyle _I'd_ give you a lift today." Kenny grinned and patted the seat beside him. "Hop in."

Stan reluctantly climbed in Kenny's second-hand, beaten-up truck, named Irene (or Reenie for short). She had scratched paint and a noisy, almost painful engine, but she still ran for Kenny. Kenny loved here very deeply. (He also loved _in_ here very deeply, which made Stan reluctant to touch anything.)

"Thanks, dude," he mumbled. "Don't you usually give one to Cartman though?"

"Yeah, I convinced Kyle to give him one."

Stan's eyebrows raised. "How did you ever manage that?" The first time Kyle had given Cartman a lift, they'd argued and a death threat had been made. The second time Kyle had given Cartman a lift, they'd argued and a death threat had been made. The third time... Well, there hadn't been one.

"Told him I had important business about myself to discuss with you, told him not to worry. Also told him that I'd stop stealing his lunch and I'd go the rest of the week without making an inappropriate remark about Bebe." Kenny smiled. "How big is your lunch?"

Stan rolled his eyes. "It's plenty big." He sighed and slouched back.

"Oh, Stan, you don't have to look so excited about being with me." Kenny chuckled and shifted the truck into gear. She jolted but obediently went. "Good girl," he muttered into one of the air vents.

"I just know what you're going to say."

"No you don't. You think you know. You're assuming I'm going to say something."

"Aren't you?"

Kenny shrugged. "I say a lot of things. Some wanted, some not."

Stan held a hand to his head. "It's too early for this. Just ask about Christophe."

"Well now you bring him up," Kenny raised his eyebrows, "what _was_ that last night?"

"I - uh - he came over to... talk."

"Did this talking involve nudity and groaning by any chance?"

Stan blushed. "NO! I mean... a little. Not really." He turned away from Kenny and looked out the window, mindlessly rolling it up and then down again. (If he'd have done it in Kyle's car, he would have been told off, failure to stop possibly resulting in loss of a finger 'caught' in the glass.) "I guess he did_ something_, but not like the other night."

Kenny grinned. "The other night where you had sex with him?"

"Yes that."

"How'd that happen?"

"I was out for a walk, bumped into him as he was coming out of somebody's house, got talking, went back to his, he felt my ass and we... you know."

"I _do_ know... Well not first-hand, not _that_. But I can imagine, and I have done. You two look hot together." Stan didn't argue."So he's your boyfriend? Secret boyfriend?"

"NO!" said Stan quickly. "Nothing like that. It's just casual. No strings. Perfect sex and no emotional ties."

"You've decided on casual sex? _You?_"

"Why d'ya say it like that?" Stan frowned.

Kenny looked slightly pained, trying to form an answer that wouldn't offend, no doubt. Stan crossed his arms. "Because... 'cos I don't think it's something you can do." He turned a corner. "Not saying it's a bad thing, just that you get... you get emotionally involved in everything." This was too close to the truth for Stan to handle.

"I do not!" he yelled heatedly.

"See, you're even getting to wound up about this." Kenny took another turn, fast approaching the school. "I thought you two doing things again might mean you were dating or something."

"No, we just had sex and decided on that." Stan flicked his eyes to Kenny. "And I'm not going to get emotionally attached. I just like the sounds of sex when I want it. It's just lust that makes our bodies draw together and we're going with it." Only I do have a massive crush on Christophe which keeps getting bigger, he thought moodily.

"Right." Kenny smiled. "Well, I'm not one to lecture or make assumptions. If you enjoy it then that's great."

"Good."

"You told Kyle?"

Stan sighed. "No. I'm not planning to at the moment. He'd just give me a massive lecture and tell me it was going to end badly or I'd get heart-broken or something."

"Well, I think that too," grumbled Kenny to himself, quiet so Stan shouldn't have heard, but Stan did hear. "Did you use protection?"

Stan narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Now Kenny was sounding like Kyle. "Why, am I going to get pregnant?"

Kenny sighed. He entered the school and parked the truck as he replied. "Dude, how do you know he doesn't have any diseases? Do you have any idea who he's been having sex with?"

"Do _you_ always use protection?"

Kenny stared at Stan with a slightly startled expression and then started laughing. He shook his head and undid his seat belt. "Before I sound like a total hypocrite, let's end this conversation, unless you want to give me details of the sex?"

The predictable request Kenny was bound to make. Stan gave a half-hearted reply: "In, out, in, out, shake it all about."

Kenny raised his eyebrow. "You do the hokey cokey, and you turn around."

"You were there?!" asked Stan in mock shock.

Kenny hit Stan playfully on the back of the head. "Get out of Irene."

* * *

"Do you think I'd get away with running him over?" Gregory smirked and pointed a gloved hand to Stan as he slowly approached a row of free parking spaces that just happened - totally by coincidence, really - to be near where Stan was standing.

Christophe chuckled. "Probably not..."

"That sure is a shame."

Christophe rolled his eyes and looked through the front window at Stan too. He appreciated the pants Stan was wearing, just normal jeans, but still nice. "Mmmm, real shame, I'd love to see Stan guts covering the parking lot."

"Mash them up and make a stew. Sell it for ninety-nine cents a bowl."

"People aren't going to pay to eat road-kill human."

"Give it away for free, call it pork and watch everyone unknowingly dispose of my evidence."

"You're sick and disgusting, Gregory." Good (or rather very bad, faggot, bitch) lord, what went on it that blond head? Not very pleasant things it seemed...

"Probably wouldn't taste good anyway."

"Non." Christophe smirked secretly to himself. Gregory was wrong on that account - Stan tasted very nice, at least the parts Christophe had licked or sucked. He hoped for a better, deeper taste soon. He stopped the thoughts because Gregory was the type of person who could probably bug your thoughts, and Christophe wanted his safe for later.

Gregory swerved into the space Stan was standing beside, causing him to yell in shock and jump back. Gregory was in too much control to hit him, but Christophe saw how taken by surprise Stan was, and in the moment, getting hit could have looked like a real possibility. He turned his head and scowled.

"You deek. You didn't need to scare him like zat."

"No, but it was funny." Gregory turned the engine off and raised his eyebrow. "Where's your sense of humour gone, Mr Grumpy?"

"I just didn't think that was funny."

Gregory smirked. "Scaring Stanley is always funny." He pulled his driving gloves off and threw them on the backseat, taking his other gloves from his pockets and carefully putting them on. (The gloves looked no different, but Gregory couldn't deal with wearing outside gloves inside the car.) He opened his door and stepped out, where he was greeted by Stan's angry face.

Christophe rolled his eyes and sighed, getting out of the other side and slamming the door harder than Gregory would allow if he had been looking. But of course he wasn't; he was too busy with Stan. It made Christophe smirk slightly, the thought of the things he and Stan did. He watched as Gregory and Stan exchanged unfriendly words such as, 'lunatic' and 'pansy'.

He watched the way Stan's forehead creased in anger, arms gesturing violently and words yelled furiously. He watched how Gregory stood more calmly, with his hands on his hips and his words spoken slower. He thought about how the two of them might look suddenly ripping each other's clothes off and fucking to take out their frustrations. Then he almost hit himself to shut up, because the thought created jealously and would probably be the worst thing that could happen (even if it was hot).

Then he saw Kenny looking at him, taking him in with grin, and he immediately felt uncomfortable and obvious. He frowned and turned to Gregory, pulling on his arm. "Let's go." He didn't make any contact with Stan, didn't even look at him.

"-and no balls to do it with!" Gregory finished. Christophe raised his eyebrows, wondering what they could have possibly been yelling about. Probably the usual, putting each other's masculinity down because neither of them had a very high amount.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on. Leave Marsh alone. He has enough problems without you."

"What do you mean?"

"... He has to live with zat face."

Gregory laughed. "Poor him." He shot one final glare at Stan and then walked away. Christophe shot Stan a quick apologetic look and then followed Gregory. He'd quite have liked to tell Stan not to take anything Gregory said to heart, that the blond was just letting out frustration on him because he always had done - it had become tradition, his way of venting, pushing everything onto Stan. Christophe saw that needed to change. He also saw that in turn, Stan pushed a lot of blame onto Gregory, which also needed to change, because the Brit wasn't _that_ bad.

But, hey, who was going to help them change? Certainly not him. No. He had no reason to. Nothing was any of his concern.

Nope.

* * *

Classes were the same for Christophe as they had ever been and ever would be. They involved deceptively long hours in a stuffy, claustrophobic environment, where by the end of the day it felt like you'd done a whole week. The only lesson good enough to put any real effort into was gym, and only when it was outside. Christophe was born and designed for the outdoors - it was in his very nature. It wasn't that he hated school, just that it really _did_ have little to offer for the greater plan of his life (which he knew definitely involved being outside). Regardless, he tried to pay attention and his grades were the type of decent he only achieved from being naturally clever. Gregory told him he would be a straight A student if he actually tried. Gregory was always right.

They were in English and Christophe was happily internally ranting about everything that was wrong with England, referencing different parts of Gregory at regular intervals. He loved a good rant, even if no one could hear. He half caught the teachers words. There was one line he did hear clearly because it was said louder:

"I trust you all have your papers."

"Shit," mumbled Gregory before groaning next to him, bringing Christophe reluctantly back to what was being said in the classroom.

Christophe turned to him and whispered, "You haven't done it?"

"No. I_ was_ doing it and you closed my books on me." Gregory sighed. "Besides, I was too distracted to concentrate."

"Oui. Just tell 'im zat. Didn't you already tell him ze day before?"

"Oh, did I?" Gregory frowned.

"You ran off to see 'im after you were done teasing Marsh?"

Gregory's frown left. "Oh yes of course." He smiled. "Silly me, of course." He saw Christophe's confused face and added, "No we just got talking about one of the poems - you know, the one about the swan? - and I forgot there was another reason I saw him."

Christophe rolled his eyes. "Flirting wiz ze teacher were you, Gregory," he teased. "Zat's just like you."

"No." Gregory turned his head away and Christophe could no longer see his face. "Definitely not." He turned back when the teacher in question approached their desk, first looking over Christophe, waiting to see if the homework was bearable enough for him to do.

"Here." Christophe handed Mr Evans a completed essay. He hadn't minded doing it really. It kept his head busy whilst he was waiting for a suitable time to see Stan.

"Thank you." The teacher turned to Gregory expectantly.

Gregory blushed and shook his head. "Sorry, Sir. I didn't... I..."

"See me after class." The teacher hastily moved on to the next desk. Gregory sighed and put his head in his hands. Christophe patted him on the back.

"Don't worry, mon ami," he said. "I think he just wants to talk about eet more zan anything, because usually he just says 'Bring eet een tomorrow'. So eet must mean zat he just wants to see eef you're alright and discuss when you can do eet by."

Gregory nodded slowly.

The rest of the lesson passed by in another internal rant, this time about God. When Christophe left the room, Gregory was drumming his fingers on his desk and still looking down at some completed work. Christophe just couldn't understand how someone could worry so much over one piece of undone homework. He reasoned he'd never understand the mind of Gregory (who had mentioned another way to kill Stan during the lesson which involved his old whale documentaries and a harpoon).

He saw Stan coming out of a room across the hall and smiled slightly, planning on walking over to him, but making it look like he was just strolling in that general direction. However, Wendy came out of that room as well and marched straight over to him. Christophe scowled before she even reached him. They did not get along - something about him being a bad influence on Gregory and not showing him enough support in his ambitions, which was complete bullshit because, in Christophe's opinion, he gave never-ending support to his best friend who was in many ways worse behaved than him.

"Are you wearing Gregory's shirt?" she asked, in a voice that although it was probably perfectly lovely, Christophe found shrill and irritating.

"No." _Yes._

"Where is he?"

"He's still inside talking about his homework."

"Why? He's supposed to walk me to class."

"Well maybe ze teacher doesn't think zat's important!" Christophe snapped. He glanced over to see if Stan had left, but was happy to find he was doing something in his locker not that far down.

"Did he not do it or something?" Wendy looked genuinely horrified.

Christophe flicked his eyes back to hers. "Maybe because he was at his Grandma's funeral."

Wendy frowned and looked slightly guilty. "I know that. I wanted to go with him but he told me it was just family, and he seemed pretty cold about it. I've not seen him. He's not letting me near him." She clutched her books tighter and made Christophe feel slightly guilty to. Gregory could be so cruel. It wasn't fair on him to shut Wendy out but still keep her as a girlfriend, however much grief he was feeling.

Christophe put his hand on Wendy's shoulder and smiled. "People grieve in different ways. Gregory just needs space. Oui?"

"Yeah." She glanced at the classroom door and then sighed and turned away. Christophe walked in the opposite direction, thinking. He knew Gregory would have to end it soon. It would be easier on everyone long-term. It would also stop him from having that bragging right over Stan. He stopped when he reached the boy's locker.

"Bonjour."

Stan blinked and look slightly startled, as if snapping out of a daze. "Hi."

Christophe motioned. "Shall we walk to ze next class?"

"Yeah, sure." Stan smiled. They both began walking and his eyes fell over Christophe. "Are you wearing Gregory's shirt?"

"Uh - oui..."

"So that's where you had to go last night." Stan looked up into Christophe's eyes, with a face that was trying to stay neutral, but small traces of a frown were appearing.

"I wanted to see him after ze funeral," Christophe explained. "And zen I just stayed ze night."

"Dude, you don't have to explain anything to me. Gregory's your best friend."

"Nozing happened." Christophe didn't know why he said this when Stan had already told him he didn't have to explain anything, and he knew he didn't have to explain anything. Because even if something had happened, it still wouldn't mean _he'd_ done anything wrong, just Gregory, because Gregory had a girlfriend.

"... It's not my business if it did." Stan frowned. "I wasn't thinking that because Gregory has a girlfriend. It wouldn't be very fair on Wendy and it would make Gregory a-"

Christophe stopped him. "Nozing happened." He didn't want to hear any more about Wendy or Gregory.

"Kay." Stan nodded and smiled slightly, almost like he was pleased by this fact. They rounded a corner, down a corridor Christophe had no reason to go down at that time, not near his next class, and therefore not near Stan's. They kept walking though.

"That shirt's a bit tight," commented Stan, saying what Christophe had been thinking all morning. He'd woken up in Gregory's bed and had no time to get one of his own shirts, so had settled for the darkest colour Gregory had in his ridiculously expensive shirts (a dark blue).

"Are you saying I look fat?"

Stan looked over Christophe's chest again. "Hmmm." He looked into Christophe eyes. "A bit." He held a straight face for a few seconds and then laughed. "Of course not. I can just see that your arm muscles aren't enjoying being trapped in the tight material."

"Because zey're so big?" Christophe smirked, walking past some abandoned lockers. It was a less-used area of school, not much there except for a few old art classrooms and storage cupboards. People sometimes used the classrooms if they needed to do extra artwork or needed more room for a bigger canvas. Stan knew this because he'd tagged along with Cartman out of curiosity to look at some of his projects. (Much to Kyle's annoyance, they were extremely good. They knew Cartman had impressive photography skills but they never realised how this artistic mind had translated onto canvas, with projects about death or illness, each one insensitive and gruesome, but magic.)

"The Incredible Hulk feels small in comparison."

Christophe smirked and stopped Stan, taking a glance around and seeing no one was there. He pulled the boy towards him by the waist with a glint in his eye. "I'm flattered."

Stan looked slightly nervous. "W-What are you doing, dude? We're... school... hallway." His words trails off and breathing became audibly heavier as Christophe started slowly moving his head forward; just after a small moment, something to take away from the predictability and boredom of school life. Plus he kind of wanted just to kiss Stan.

"I know." He trailed his lips over Stan's. "But are you really going to deny me?" He let his kiss flow softly, feeling Stan reciprocate almost instantly. His hands stayed on Stan's waist, as Stan's hands arms rested around his neck. He couldn't say how long they stayed like that, luckily everyone else was in lessons and they did not get caught. When they parted, both pink-cheeked and wet-lipped, a comfortable silence was shared between the two.

They departed with barely a word. Christophe wondered how they hadn't been caught and resolved that they mustn't have been kissing for too long. He wasn't overly late to class, and the teacher just sighed, expecting it. He sat in the back of the class, gazing out the window and frowning at how a kiss had never felt like that before.

He chewed his pen and tried to convince himself it wasn't a big deal until the teacher called on him for an answer he really didn't know.


	5. Changes and Cherries

**A/N: If I had any jelly babies left then they'd be going out to you chaps for your fantastic reviews. Any review helps this fic move forward!**

**Luna - I can honestly say that your review left me grinning like a loony for hours, because that was just so lovely to read. I'm glad you enjoy more of my stories! I guess I've always loved the challenge of unpopular pairings. I will continue being me.**

* * *

It had been about a week since he'd kissed Christophe in the hallway, and as usual, Stan was ready to go about his perfectly ordinary and peaceful day. He was going to attend his classes, dream about Christophe and eat food, simply smiling at anyone who asked him why he was looking so happy. He was going to wait for Christophe to be the one to ask about their next meet up, whenever he wanted that. Stan was content with admiring him from a distance and continuing like normal. He smiled and sighed happily to himself about the lovely day.

That was of course until he saw Wendy. When he saw her, his smile wiped. She was storming down the corridor at a furious pace that would leave you, however big you were, knocked to the ground if you didn't get out of her way. She was wearing an angry scowl but Stan could easily tell that this was just a disguise; she was in fact, extremely upset. If you'd been with here for any period of time, you'd know the signs.

She didn't see him and Stan was obviously not going to approach her, but he had a feeling about why she was this way. There was a certain person who could have that effect on people. And that person was just walking up the corridor the opposite way, receiving a glare so fierce that he should have probably disintegrated. He looked apologetic. Stan stepped into Gregory's path.

"Not now, Stanley," Gregory grumbled in a tired tone. "Not now."

"I think now is as good a time as any." There was no way Stan was going to let this opportunity slip by him, not after all Gregory had boasted to him.

"Fine."

"Wendy look really angry. Did you see that look she gave you?" Stan faked a shudder. "Nasty."

"You want to know how it happened, hmm? Well, I broke up with her like I've been meaning to do for _ages_, because unlike you, I don't get dumped. I've clearly just broken her heart. You never managed that."

"Breaking a girl's heart is not something to boast over! It just shows what a dick you are!" Though Stan felt that even Gregory didn't mean that. Gregory may have been a dick, but he wasn't that type. It looked like whatever it was about was affecting him too. Stan was almost prepared to drop it.

"I'm not saying that I wanted to do it. Just that I did and you didn't. Though we're not together anymore, I still _beat you_, because she'll never want you back."

Oh forget that, Stan was going to continue. "But you acted like you really loved her too. You're such a cold-hearted user."

"I'm not the only one." Gregory glared. "The only reason you didn't want to let go of Wendy is so that nobody would start accusing you of being gay and taking it up the ass, which you totally are doing!"

"Not when I was with her, and not so loud!" Stan pushed Gregory further to the side and lowered his voice; no one had over-heard them - people blocked out their arguments because they were so frequent - but he didn't want to take any chances. "So are you."

"Excuse me? I am doing no such thing," whispered back Gregory in disgust.

"You are gay though."

"Yes, the reason I split up with Wendy is because I'm gay." Gregory held Stan's gaze. "Problem?"

"No. You?"

"No."

"...Good."

A silence fell between them until Gregory spoke again. "So who is your mystery lover. Have you seen him again?"

"I'm not discussing this."

"But you do have one? That mark didn't lie."

"Yes," grumbled Stan through gritted teeth. "There is someone, but you don't need to know anymore unless you want me to ask more questions about you and why you broke up with Wendy. Huh? Is there someone?"

"Okay. We won't talk anymore. I'll leave you in peace." Gregory smirked. "Still don't know who's dumb enough to have you though. They must be really desperate."

"Oh, go pluck your eyebrows, _Greg_!" snapped Stan.

Gregory raised a hand to one. "Why, do they need doing again?" He chuckled and walked away, swinging his hips in his stupid tight trousers. Stan turned and walked in the opposite direction, towards his class where he could day-dream about Christophe's chest in peace.

* * *

"Tophe?"

"Oui?"

"Do my eyebrows look okay?" Gregory looked at him straight on with wide eyes. They stood around the back of the school where Christophe could smoke; it was their area now, one people who valued their lives didn't go (which was stupid because neither of them had ever made a threat about the area). Damien joined them there which didn't help with the friendly factor.

Christophe frowned and only just stopped himself from hitting Gregory for being so vain; instead he shook his head and chuckled. "You're so gay."

"So are you. How do they look?"

"Well..." He looked between them and smirked. "They actually look a little uneven."

"They do!?"

"I'm surprised you allowed yourself to be seen in public."

"Oh God!"

"Oh relax. Zey're fine!" Christophe shook his head and took a drag of his cigarette, but then decided to continue teasing. "Have you ever considered getting an eyebrow piercing? I think you'd really suit one."

"You know, on the rare occasion that Hell happened to freeze over, and pigs got scared and flew up into the sky? Not even then." Gregory flicked Christophe's ear. They stood in silence for a few minutes watching the smoke mixing with the cold wind until Gregory spoke again.

"Do you think I could maybe tell you something?" He bit his lip. "Something that I can't keep just to myself."

Christophe frowned and threw his cigarette to the floor, crushing it under his foot. "Oui. Of course." He wasn't the best at serious conversations but he could manage them for Gregory. "Shoot."

"I... there's this guy I've become _acquainted_ with," Gregory began. "I have not yet done anything serious, but if it's headed the way I think it is..." Gregory blushed. Christophe understood. The Brit was shy when it came to seriously talking about things like that. Teasing Stan with talk of sex was fine but when it was something actually real, Gregory was shy.

"You've met a guy?" Christophe smiled. "Well, zat's good."

"I have a feeling you might not be saying that for long..." Gregory frowned. "He's not quite what you'd want for me."

Christophe remembered a rant he'd given one night to Gregory about the types of guys he had to avoid, about how Christophe would beat up anyone who wasn't up to scratch. Basically, Christophe didn't want Gregory with anyone who caused trouble, was rough, used bad language all the time or even smoked. He knew he was practically describing himself but that was because he didn't want Gregory with someone like himself. He felt almost like an hypocritical big brother (but to a person of the same age and someone who could definitely take care of himself).

He just didn't want to see Gregory in trouble.

"Ees zis person ze reason you ended eet with Wendy?"

"I guess."

"So why wouldn't I like 'im? 'Is he dangerous? Violent? Does he cause trouble and break the law?" Christophe frowned and thought of a name. "Eet's not Damien, right?"

"Oh gosh, no," said Gregory. "No one like him."

"... Craig?"

"I would never get involved with your ex! And even then, it wouldn't be him."

Christophe nodded, thankful. He wouldn't have been angry if Gregory was dating his ex-boyfriend though, but it made it easier. (Craig had been a secret one. They had lasted for around four months of fooling around, eating food and watching movies. It had suited them both at the time but things ended when they saw they weren't going anywhere, and Christophe was getting slightly bored, surprisingly wanting someone with more emotions. They were still friends.)

"Is he... older maybe?"

"Yes, that's one of the problems. He's a fair bit older than us."

"How old are you saying? Twenty?"

Gregory sighed. "Older."

"Twenty-two... four... five?" continued Christophe. Gregory bit his lip and shook his head. "Older zan zat!" Christophe ran a hand through his hair. "How old?"

"Thirty-two."

"Thirty-two!" yelled Christophe in alarm. "Thirty-two! I know you're mature for you age, Gregory, but zat's fourteen years difference!"

"Oh, don't say it like that. That's not important to me. But he... he's amazing. So intelligent and funny and handsome." Gregory sighed almost dreamily.

Christophe stared at him in disbelief. The behaviour was nothing like Gregory. For him to look so dreamy and carried away on a thought was hard to watch, because the blond had always been so level-headed and slightly cold when it came to his feelings. He'd show he had them but not willingly bring them up and start talking freely.

"Are you in love?" asked Christophe.

Gregory blushed. "I think I am."

"Wow." Christophe nodded his head slowly. "Right." What else could he say? He couldn't voice his objection; he didn't know enough and Gregory wouldn't listen.

"Age shouldn't matter. Age isn't the only problem."

Oh God, there was more! "... What ozer problems are there?"

"I can't tell you anymore. Not just yet." Gregory put his hands over Christophe's. "I will do soon."

"Can you tell me how you met him at least?"

"No, definitely not."

"Now you're making me worry, Gregory."

"It okay, I'm in love."

* * *

The rest of Stan's week went by uneventfully. Nothing more than his usual routine of classes and sports. He hadn't seen much of Christophe. They'd shared the occasional glance across the cafeteria and some smirks getting changed for Gym, but apart from one small conversation, that was all.

He'd still decided against telling Kyle about what was going on. It didn't feel like something he wanted people to know and judge him on. And perhaps even more than that, he didn't want to share tales of the experience, he wanted it all to himself. It was almost something special from the rest of his life, the fewer links the better. Of course Kenny knew, but they hadn't discussed it again.

He and Christophe had arranged during a small meeting on Thursday that they would both be in Stan's bedroom on Friday night; and that's exactly where they were, with Stan feeling a hot body on top of him, holding the skin and revelling in the closeness.

Christophe had spent his week adjusting to the news Gregory had told him and trying to find out more with not much luck. Whatever Gregory was hiding, it was big. He'd also gotten on the wrong side of Wendy, ending up being yelled at for simply saying Gregory's name too loud during class.

Lying with Stan felt like welcome relief from all that tension, and he was so ready for it. He'd pulled all of their clothes off before they'd even reached the bed and pushed Stan down onto it, shoving a tongue into his mouth and kissing deeply, exploring inside, as if it had all changed and needed discovering again. One thing he noticed was how fresh and untainted Stan's smell and taste was - fresh soap and spearmint. It made Christophe feel guilty for probably smelling and tasting like smoke.

He groaned and trailed his mouth over Stan's chest. The skin, which unlike his didn't hold a natural tan, was pale from never seeing the sun. It tasted sweet and fresh, like everything about Stan did. Christophe found himself listening to Stan's pleasured groans and loving it. He swirled his tongue around Stan's left nipple and heard a louder groan of approval. Confident in what he was doing, he took it between his teeth and bit down just slightly, knowing the power of stimulation.

"Fuck, Chris," choked Stan.

"Ees zat okay?"

"Yes!"

Christophe ran his fingers over Stan's hips and bit harder, satisfied with the shudder of Stan's body underneath him and the scream from the boy's lips. He ran his tongue along Stan's chest to the right one, where he proceeded to do the same, paying them slow and proper attention. He was not in the mood to rush things. He trailed his kisses lower, over Stan's stomach, licking around his bellybutton before going even lower, to his crotch.

He flicked his eyes up to Stan's face as he hovered his hand over Stan's extremely erect member. He saw Stan's red blush, blue eyes shining back at him. He smirked and with the raising of his eyebrows, took Stan into his mouth, earning a loud groan.

Christophe began moving his mouth slowly, taking full control of Stan. He ran a hand over Stan's thigh as he did this, keeping a steady pace. Heavy groans filled his ears, exciting and encouraging and something he greatly appreciated hearing.

"G-God," Stan groaned, tangling his fingers in Christophe's messy hair. "That's good."

Christophe could imagine Stan's face blushing red as he said this. He imagined wide pleasured eyes, that slowly fell closed as the pleasure continued. Perhaps Stan's mouth was hanging open a little, beautifully plump and pink lips wet from kisses. He'd really appreciated Stan's looks the night he'd had the opportunity to look at them closer.

He'd always just seen him as the average, easily offended boy who Gregory hated. But he was so more than that, not at all average. To Christophe, Stan had a 'boy next door' feel to him, though it didn't define him. He was sweet but also could be heated, had some innocence but was in no way naive. His short black hair suited his handsome face, which was both strong and soft, creating an appearance that was overall glowing in kindness. He also had a fit body - sport-sculpted - which made it strong. He had less muscle than Christophe, but he had just the right amount to suit him, plus he was a little taller than Christophe, though neither of them were extremely tall.

Christophe let a groan escape from his lips and increased his pace, listening to Stan's moans of appreciation. They sounded desperate and shaky, really teasing Christophe, whose own crotch was throbbing. He pulled his lips away from Stan's member and immediately felt himself pushed back and down onto his back.

Stan sat across Christophe's hips and bent down to kiss him, tongue pushing into Christophe's mouth urgently, emphasising the lust they both felt.

Christophe loved it when people straddled him and created their own pleasure, showing him how they wanted it. He was determined that Stan would ride him before whatever they were doing was over (and Stan was more comfortable and confident). He could imagine already how hot it would be to have Stan sweaty and panting over him. Christophe gasped and closed his eyes as Stan's lips trailed down his neck.

He sighed, lying on his back and feeling Stan's warm lips falling over his chest, kissing and caressing and fantastically pleasurable. They moved everywhere like his had done, taking in the skin. Stan's tongue tickled in some areas, wet and warm. In others, particularly when Stan returned the gesture of teasing the nipples, it sent jolts. He didn't want this sensation to end, but he also knew that he wanted to fuck Stan, and fuck him bad. He'd been desperate for that since the day after the first time.

He pushed himself up on his elbows until they were both sitting, kissing Stan whilst reaching around clumsily for Stan's bedside table.

Stan stopped him. "I have it here." He pulled a new lube bottle from under his pillow and handed it to Christophe. "I wanted it in easier reach."

Christophe chuckled breathlessly and took it, glancing at the bottle and then raising his eyebrows. "Cherry flavoured?" He smirked at Stan and leaned into him, watching a hot blush flush over his face. "Are you hinting at something you want?"

"I - I just, I - didn't think about it... I just..." Stan trailed off and glanced down. "Maybe sometime," he mumbled. "If you... you know... wanted to."

"Sure, sometime. I love your ass."

"I - you - I -" Christophe stopped Stan's nervous rambling without another kiss as he flipped open the lube bottle and applied some to one of his hands. He smirked, drawing away and pushing a finger into Stan's mouth.

"Does eet taste good?"

Stan groaned around the finger and nodded. Christophe withdrew it and moved down so he had a better view of Stan's backside. He pushed Stan's knees up and his legs further apart. He wasn't lying every time he said how much he loved Stan's ass. It was so tight and beautifully shaped - a shape visible through most of his pants and well worth staring at. Christophe hungrily pushed a finger into Stan's entrance, feeling the tight warmth around it.

He aimed immediately for Stan's prostate, pushing another finger to join it. He wriggled them; Stan groaned. He moved them in and out quickly and Stan groaned again. In fact everything he did equalled a throaty groan from Stan. One glance Stan's member and he realised how they couldn't wait any longer; he'd been really working Stan up. He pulled his fingers out and rubbed some more lube over his erection, licking a finger out of curiosity of the cherry taste when he was done.

Yes, his tongue, that and Stan's ass would definitely be meeting at some point.

He positioned himself in front of Stan and held his legs. He pushed in gently, gasping at the tightness. He'd almost forgotten how new to this Stan was, how untouched in these areas he'd been. It was all very endearing and made Christophe happy he was the one given the right to introduce Stan to these feelings. It made him hate the idea that Stan could find someone else to do it with too, if he wanted to. Christophe couldn't, but he wanted to reserve Stan just for him.

He was working up quite a fast rhythm, Stan's legs pressing against his sides, their lips finding each other in a heated kiss, groans transferring between mouths. It felt amazing, weirdly heightened by how strongly he felt Stan under and around him. Stan's scents and groans overtook his senses, and Christophe loved it. He didn't just switch off and make it another mindless fuck; he wanted to be so aware of Stan.

"Christophe!" Stan screamed, as he must have been hitting the spot.

Christophe continued thrusting his hips forward and screamed back, "Stanley!" This must have hit a nerve in Stan's mind as well as his body because he groaned exceptionally loudly, face bright red, mouth open.

A quick glance at Stan's face and Christophe felt his stomach tighten. He choked out a groan and managed a few more desperate jerks before pulling out and coming with a long moan of Stan's name. This seemed enough to make Stan come without even needing a last touch, and their come mixed on his stomach.

Christophe gasped and rolled off Stan's stomach, leaning to kiss him from the side. They pulled apart and both lay on the bed, getting their breath back and grinning. Christophe felt so alive and he knew just glancing over at Stan that so did he.

Stan did. He was a mess of feelings, all of them amazing ones, some of them confusing. Christophe using his full name had been one of the hottest things he'd heard. He was revelling in lying next to Christophe, naked and sweaty and content. He didn't even care about getting clean.

"Tell me something about yourself, Marsh," said Christophe, turning to him. "Anything."

"What? Why?" Stan frowned and turned to Christophe, lying close to him and feeling their overheated bodies together.

"I just don't know much about you." Christophe smiled.

Were they becoming friends? Stan liked this. Suddenly he wanted to pour everything in his life to Christophe and ask him a thousand questions in return. He wanted to spend the rest of the night talking. But they wouldn't have the rest of the night. Christophe would leave because Stan had nothing else he wanted for now. So Stan decided just to take what he could get and tell one thing.

"My dad's going on tour and becoming a roadie."

Christophe raised his eyebrows and looked taken aback. "What?"

"He's going next week, touring the country with his favourite heavy-metal band." Stan rolled his eyes. "Mom's furious because it means he won't be taking me on Saturdays anymore. Plus, he's running away from everything."

"Well damn. Didn't expect that."

"You would if you knew my dad."

"Can't be worse than my dad," whispered Christophe, turning to stare up at the ceiling. This made Stan immediately want to ask why, but he didn't. He'd sensed the change in the atmosphere and knew Christophe didn't want to say anymore.

"You want to stay and play for a bit?"

"Play... I thought zat's what we just did."

Stan blushed. "No - you know - video games or something. I just got The Last of Us..."

"What's zat about?"

"Killing zombies... and people and stuff."

"I don't really like video games zat involve killing. I think eet's wrong to glamorise eet like zat."

Stan thought he got the hint. "Yeah, right." But rather than leave then which he was sure Christophe was making an excuse to do, the French boy sat up beside him and smiled.

"Got any racing games?"

A grin came back to Stan's face. "Tons."

Christophe smirked. "Prepare to get your sore ass kicked."


	6. Passing and Potatoes

**A/N: I'm sorry this update took a while! I really loved reading your reviews (each one multiple times) - they're what spurred me on to write whenever I could! THANK YOU! **

* * *

Christophe and Gregory watched from their usual spot against the wall as they could see Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Cartman and Gary in the distance. Christophe was trying to work out what game they were playing. It used a football but was a strange version of it. It involved nestling the ball in Kyle's thick hair and then batting it off his head, wrestling to grab it and get it to their line, not really following any rules but everyone knowing what was allowed and not. Gary and Stan seemed to be competitively into it, Kyle was yelling because Cartman kept pushing him for no reason and Kenny was using the opportunity to grope everyone.

"They're all idiots," said Gregory, frowning down at his nails as he inspected them. He did not seem happy with what he saw. Christophe half expected him to get out a nail file. He rolled his eyes and looked at his own nails curiously - dirty, short and bitten.

"Come on," he grumbled, putting his hand down, "zat's not true."

Gregory sighed. "Fine. Gary's a lovely person. I like Gary. And Kyle isn't so bad, really, apart from a bad taste in best friends; I've worked with him in class before."

"You're mainly talking about Stan aren't you?"

"Of course."

"Eh, give him a break." It's not like Stan spent every minute of his life getting stuck in trees...

"Well don't you see 'idiot' branded across his forehead? What do you see when you look at him?"

"When I look at Stan Marsh I want to rip all his clothes off, suck every last inch of his skin and fuck him until he can't remember his own name." Christophe calmly took a final drag on the cigarette that had been hanging out of his mouth, and then stomped it out. He laughed at Gregory's startled expression.

"Right," Gregory said slowly. "Well that's disturbing."

"Don't you mean hot? I want to make him into a sweaty and panting mess all over his own floor, and zen when he's trying to get clean een ze shower, I want to press him against ze tiles and-"

"Stop, Tophe! You're bordering on psychotic! And I know you don't mean it!" Christophe chuckled to himself at how wrong Gregory was. He smirked and pushed himself off the wall, looking over at the football again.

"I'm going to join zem een zeir leetle game."

"Why?" Gregory frowned. "They're idiots and you never talk to them."

"So?" Christophe started walking. "Eet's football, eet doesn't matter."

"It's _American_ football," muttered Gregory. "And they're not even using their feet."

"Bonjour, beetches," Christophe said loudly, standing at the edge of their game. They all stopped and turned to him. Stan's eyes widened and Kenny raised his eyebrow.

"Hey," said Gary cheerily, holding the ball and grinning.

"Could you use someone to even up ze teams?" Christophe kept his attitude uncaring but smiled a little. He was sure that most of them would be shocked he was even talking to them, let alone being nice. He looked at Gary's smiling and inclusive expression, Kyle and Cartman's shocked and slightly nervous ones, Kenny's probing one and lastly, Stan's blush. He loved Stan's blush - it made him want to stroke Stan's face to feel if it was getting hot.

"We already have to play with the Mormon and the Jew, but now we're going to let the Brit play too?" asked Cartman in annoyance, glaring at Christophe.

"Oh, no, definitely not!" Stan said grinning. "But we'll let Frenchy play." He patted Christophe's back in a way that signified he was accepted. It made Christophe's back tingle slightly, and not because Stan had patted it hard.

Gary grinned. "Great! You can be with me and Kyle. We're a couple points behind-"

"-because _Cartman_ isn't playing fairly," finished Kyle, glaring at his opponent.

"Eh, I'll sort him out," promised Christophe, smirking and getting into position. He noticed Cartman frown at that and move a little further down the field, avoiding eye contact. Good. Christophe was competitive and he was not prepared to take any nonsense from the fat one. He could see why Gary and Kyle were on the same team now - it was easier for everyone if they didn't have to work with Cartman's intolerance. He glanced across at Gregory as the ball was being batted from Kyle's head and saw that he was filing his nails with a rather bored expression.

Gary ran with the ball and was soon tackled by Kenny whose hands seemed much more interested in stroking his chest and grabbing his arms than they did in actually getting the ball. Christophe laughed, finding Gary's blushing face and giggles amusing. He found as he continued playing that Kenny was adding little help to the other team because he seemed set on tickling Gary given any opportunity; Christophe had to admit it was fun to do and had found himself doing it during one tackle. Cartman seemed much more interested in shoving Kyle, but when he did get the ball often scored.

The person that seemed to be winning the opposition most of their points was Stan who was terrifically good at dodging people. Even Christophe was having trouble grabbing him. He'd soon set it as his goal to do, and realised he needed to stay near Stan if he was going to get the chance.

He ran with the ball, passing it to Gary as he saw Cartman blocking his path. Kenny immediately sprung on Gary as if coming out of nowhere, like he'd been lurking. Gary burst into laughter and threw the ball into the air. Stan caught it. Christophe saw it as his chance. With a glint in his eye he started chasing the other boy, this time putting everything into it, running like he knew he could.

"Kill him, Tophe!" yelled Gregory from the sidelines, who had been watching between texting someone on his phone. Christophe knew Gregory was too uptight and bothered about his appearance to join in, which was a shame because he was good at sports, just like he was good at everything else.

Christophe grinned and threw himself at Stan, grabbing him around the waist and tackling him to the floor. He felt the outline of Stan's body through his coat, and the heat coming from his red face. He had to restrain himself from kissing Stan's cheeks at that like he really wanted to. The way they fell meant their legs were tangled together and their bodies pressed, chests together. He moved with the rise and fall of Stan's panted breathing. The ball became an obstacle between them rather than what they were fighting over and for a second - as he felt Stan's breath on his face - Christophe was convinced they were going to kiss.

But then he heard Kyle yelling above him and thought to take the ball from Stan's loose grip and throw it up. He got off Stan then, and stood up, offering a hand out.

"You're losing, Marsh," he said with a smirk on his face; Stan seemed to only be able to laugh in response, like he hadn't heard or wasn't listening properly. They both held the grip a little longer than needed before they let go. "Would you like to come over tonight?" he continued in a low voice.

Stan looked away and blushed as he nodded. "Sure."

"Good." Christophe ran back into the game with the intent to beat Stan now and beat him off later.

* * *

After Christophe disappointingly didn't kill Stan, Gregory decided he'd had enough of standing and watching the stupid game, particularly as a certain someone had just texted him with a very enticing offer of where he could be - a place that for safety reasons he couldn't be seen in too often. A text had come through on his phone saying that it was time for his tutoring session, and he knew what that meant.

He straightened his clothes and made sure his hair was in perfect order by looking in his hand mirror as he walked down the corridor. Since he'd broken up with Wendy, he'd decided there was no point toning down the 'gay' anymore. And though he wasn't officially announcing it, he was sure everyone knew.

"Gregory!" called a voice from behind him. The blond sighed and turned around, putting his mirror back in his pocket as he did and cursing to himself. People always wanted to talk to him most when he had somewhere he needed to be - preferably sprawled over the English teacher's office desk as they heatedly kissed each other and pressed their bodies close. He stopped and looked up with a sigh.

"Craig darling, always a pleasure."

Craig rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend you care about me."

"Fine." Gregory put his hands on his hips and frowned. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering about Christophe..." Craig began slowly, almost awkwardly. Why would this be? Gregory raised his eyebrow and smirked.

"Why? Desperately missing him are we?"

"No," Craig replied. "Have you seen him acting differently recently? I can't explain it, but I think he seems more animated about things, and he's smiling more." Gregory actually hadn't noticed this, because Christophe's moods went up and down so frequently that he'd stopped noticing as much. Also he had to admit that he'd been very involved in his own life: dealing with the emotions that would suddenly wash over him about his Grandma, and of course dealing with the problems dating a teach brought up.

"He must just be happy."

"Yeah, that's the thing, it seems like a different kind of happy... a deeper one?"

"Are you suddenly the expert in emotions?"

Craig sighed. "I guess I just wanted to know if he has a new boyfriend? For selfish reasons."

"... He hasn't mentioned one." Gregory narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Craig, eyeing him suspiciously. "Do you know something I don't?" Suddenly Gregory's mind was whirring, thinking over anyone Christophe may have been more friendly with recently. The football game immediately came into his mind. Of course. If there was anyone, it could be one of_ them_. He quickly eliminated Stan from the equation - Christophe wouldn't have joked about sex with him if he really was seeing him, and besides, it was a laughable thought to think of them together. It had to be someone more like Gary or Kyle (though wasn't he madly in love with Bebe?) ... perhaps Kenny. Those were the three, if any.

"I don't know anything," said Craig. "And it looks like you don't either." He nodded his head and then walked past Gregory without saying another word.

"It was nice talking to you, too, darling," called Gregory after him. Craig didn't reply, but Gregory hardly cared. He decided he'd bring the boyfriend issue up in a conversation sometime, just subtly. Christophe had never hidden anything like that from him before and it was curious.

But for now he was already late...

* * *

Stan realised he hadn't noticed much about Christophe's house the first time he was in it. He'd entered it unconscious and left in a daze, very quickly. That's why when he entered into the pink living room - after having walked from school with Christophe - he was surprised to see a rather colourful bird staring at him.

"Oh, a parrot!" He grinned and stepped closer to the stand where the parrot was sitting. There was a cage nearby but it was out of it and on a specially designed area. It had a beautiful green body, with a yellow head and patches of red at the top of its wings. It turned its head to Stan when he approached. "Hello!"

Christophe smiled and stood beside him. "His name ees Pepe. I got 'im on my seventh birthday." He turned to his pet. "Bonjour, Pepe."

"Bonjour, Pepe," repeated the bird.

Stan laughed and Christophe grinned. "I'm so used to having Gregory run up ze stairs quickly and avoid Pepe, not feeling safe until he was back een ze cage. I'm glad you like 'im."

Stan frowned. "Why would Gregory do that?"

"Because he's unbelievably terrified of birds, even ze thought. I think eet's ze beaks or something. It was some kind of childhood trauma at a zoo." Christophe sighed when Stan burst into amused laughter and shook his head. "I shouldn't 'av told you zat. Don't tell anyone, please. And _don't_ tease Gregory." Christophe looked at him gravely. "I mean eet."

"Mean it," repeated the bird.

Stan nodded, seeing the seriousness in Christophe's face. "I won't. I promise," he said seriously, before sniggering to himself at the image of Gregory running away from a tiny bird chirping in the trees. "Is he afraid of bird prints too? Because I think Wendy had a top like that."

Christophe rolled his eyes. "Well maybe zat's why he broke up wiz her." He hit Stan lightly on the back of the head. Stan chuckled and decided to shut up about it; after all, he knew what it felt like to have a deep fear of something. Snakes had always turned him into a quivering mess. He jumped when the parrot talked again.

"Squidward." The parrot whistled and clicked it's mouth. "Ohhh." Stan cocked his head and watched him talk to himself. "D'accord. D'accord."

"Uh huh." Christophe laughed and whispered, "He does this a lot, just talks saying what he's heard from the TV... Please, don't judge me."

The parrot bobbed it's head up and down. "Wheel of..." He clucked his tongue again. "No." Stan was so entertained and kept listening, hearing the hints of TV shows. Everything was shocking him but he wasn't truly stunned until he heard, "Sponge... bob Squarepants!" and then a perfect whistle to finish off the tune.

He turned with a grin to Christophe who was blushing deeply. "It_ is_ a very good show."

"Just... Just..." Christophe was about to push Stan towards the stairs when his mother walked in from the kitchen, smiling with her eyebrows raised at Stan. Stan noticed Christophe frown.

"I didn't know you were home," he grumbled, looking distractedly around. His mother just seemed to ignore his negative attitude and step closer to Stan.

"I'm not needed for my weekly nightshift zis time," she replied, still looking at Stan. "Are you Stan?" He nodded and she turned to Christophe, saying something else in French that he didn't understand. All he could pick out were the words 'little' and 'friend'. Christophe blushed and nodded his head rapidly, mumbling a reply. She grinned and turned back to him. "Hello. Eet ees nice to meet you."

Stan didn't let the confusion he was feeling inside play on his face, instead he nodded. "It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am." He would have called her Mrs DeLorne but he was uncertain of whether she still used that name or not. He knew that Christophe's dad wasn't around but he didn't know much else.

"Okay, zat's great, we're going now." Christophe pulled Stan's arm lightly, trying to lead him towards the stairs.

"But you haven't let me speak to him!"

"You don't need to, Mozer, he has nozing to say." Why would Christophe's mom want to talk to him? Stan let himself be dragged, having no idea what to do. "We're going now."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I understand. Ees Stan staying for dinner?" Stan's stomach flipped - that surely didn't sound like a good idea? Though of course, they were friends, so why couldn't he?

"I - uh..."

"I'm makeeng Dauphinoise potatoes and chicken, and eet easily serves three." She nodded her head and walked into the kitchen before either boy had time to reply. Stan blushed and looked at Christophe who just shrugged in reply.

"I guess you're staying for dinner."

"... Kay."

"Mozer ees a very good cook." Christophe smiled and then turned and led Stan to his room quickly. When they got to his room, Stan stood awkwardly in the middle of it and posed a question.

"Why does your mom know my name?"

Christophe froze and seemed to cringe, green eyes burning into Stan for a moment that was shocking and slightly intimidating. Then he sighed and spoke. "I told her you're my boyfriend."

"What?! Why!?"

"Because she's very good at reading people and suspected I'd been seeing someone and she can just tell zat I've been having sex. She wouldn't like ze fact we're just casual sex. So I had to pretend like eet was serious." Christophe smiled awkwardly. "Uh... sorry?"

"No, no, it's fine, dude." Stan bit his lip. "Do what you have to."

Christophe really hoped Stan understood. He reached out a hand and pulled on Stan's lower lip with his finger, frowning. "Don't bite eet. You'll make eet all cracked." He smirked. "Let me bite eet eef anything." He leaned into Stan and kissed him, but found himself doing it softly and not biting. He pushed Stan towards the bed. With both their eyes closed, they gently fell back together, still kissing slowly.

Christophe laced his fingers in Stan's hair and felt him place his hands on his waist, stroking lazily. They breathed slow and lay close together, neither being the one to make things proceed. Something inside Christophe was enjoying this moment; a fluttering was slowly entering his stomach, a peaceful understanding around them. He found he didn't want anything more than just lying this way, his body didn't want more. He breathed in Stan's smell, took in his warmth, felt how soft his was, and continued kissing happily - it felt good to do this, different, but good.

Stan ended up on top of him, slowly, very faintly grinding but nothing that would lead to anything more than them letting out an occasional quiet groan. They both slowly pulled the other's shirt off but didn't go any lower. Maybe Christophe was tired. Maybe this was the reason why he was happy for the gentleness with Stan. It felt like more though, building inside of him, a feeling, until Stan pulled away and sat up on him, gazing down contently with bright blue eyes and parted pink lips, then Christophe knew for sure that this was more.

Tacit understanding passed between them that there was something, indefinable perhaps, but real. It was not to be brought to light or spoken of - in a move that would make everything too complicated at that moment - but it could be felt and shared through no words, using soft kisses instead. They remained silent until Stan leaned down again and grazed his lips over Christophe's neck.

Christophe swallowed, throat dry. He stroked his hands over Stan's back, nervously wondering what to say that wouldn't sound like he wanted to get too personal. There were probably a million questions he wanted to ask Stan, but he couldn't think of any. "Uh..."

"Mmmm, yes?" Stan mumbled as he kissed over Christophe's chest lightly. It relieved Christophe that Stan seemed to want the gentleness too and took away from any awkwardness about not actually having any sex.

"... Have you had a nice day?" He tried to make it sound casual, just a passing question rather than asking it like a boyfriend would say it, though, right now he probably was sounding like that. Oh shit. He was failing miserably at being casual. Stan tilted his head to frown up at him and he forced a half-interested smile.

"No actually," replied Stan, pouting a little - _too cute, too cute_. "Some mean French guy beat me up and stole my football. Then later he and my best friend made fun of me for losing and they pushed me over and the only sympathy I got was from a Mormon."

Christophe laughed. "Well maybe you should get better zen." He pinched Stan's ass in warning. "And I deed not push you over, you fell."

Stan sat up, still on Christophe. "No I didn't."

"Yes, you deed."

"... Shut up," concluded Stan, moving off Christophe and sitting on the bed next to him. Christophe understood that now they'd interrupted the kissing with talking it had to stop. Kissing bodies and talking at the same time would feel far too intimate. "I could easily win playing you one-on-one."

"You are so full of sheet."

"I could so beat you." Stan narrowed his eyes. "I'm on the team."

"Well we'll have to see."

"Why not now? I'm ready to win." Stan grinned. "Do you have a football?" He even pulled his t-shirt on, showing how serious he was in this competition. It was a characteristic Christophe found insanely hot. "I _know_ you don't back down from a challenge."

"Damn right I don't," growled Christophe, grabbing for his shirt. "My football ees een ze-"

"Dinner ees ready!" interrupted his mother's shout from downstairs. He let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes at Stan.

"Of course eet ees." He pulled his shirt over his head and replied. "Coming!" He laughed at how eagerly Stan had stood up and started heading for the door. "Calm down, eet's just dinner."

"I know but, fuck, it sounds and smells so delicious, and my mom hardly ever cooks anymore. This... this is exciting."

"My mozer cooks like zis every night."

"I'm so jealous." He sounded jealous too. Christophe wanted to offer for Stan to stay for dinner more often - his mother always cooked too much, always enough for three. He knew that she cooked enough for them and his father, sure his mother knew it too. _Him_ leaving had been a very good thing but that past was something she couldn't free herself from. Dinner had been one of the more positive memories in their house - all the wonderful dishes passed between them, his father boasting about his day at work, the tastes and the laughter of proper family time before it all broke down at night. They ate early so that his father would eat with them, because once it got to a certain time, it was off to the bar...

"Chris, are you okay?" Stan had a hand on his shoulder and was frowning. "You were miles away."

"Eh?" Christophe came back to reality and smiled. "Oui, I just... eef you want a real food experience you should go to Gregory's on a Sunday. Crispy roast potatoes and beef all smothered een gravy with homemade Yorkshire puddings. And zere's zis carrot and swede mash."

"Mmmm, I'd go and eat that, sure, if Gregory wasn't going to be there."

"Could you put up wiz 'im eef you got to indulge een ze best sticky toffee pudding in the world for dessert."

"Maybe..."

"What eef we gag 'im?"

"Okay." Stan grinned. They both laughed and then ran down the stairs as his mother called them again, before she got the wrong idea about what they may have been doing, or got mad and refused to serve them. As it was it went perfectly and Stan was so appreciative that his mother was beaming by the end of the meal, practically _begging_ for him to come again soon. Christophe was beaming too. Having Stan for dinner felt strangely wonderful.


	7. Couples and Cars

**A/N: I would like to thank you thank you thank you for the reviews you left. I can't get over how much I love reading them! :D So here's the next chapter!**

* * *

Stan was late; didn't have any time for distractions because he'd always been warned not to be late. He knew he didn't stand a chance when he'd got talking to Christophe about some new releases at the movies - they'd discovered they had very similar movie interests. He couldn't back out of talking to him, hanging on every word and wanting to know anything Christophe would tell him, even his favourite popcorn flavour (salted). He was sure that Kyle would understand if he told him and explained, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He just had to hope that Kyle wouldn't leave without him.

As he pushed open the school doors he started making for the parking lot, but a sudden yell made him stop; as much as he needed to ignore any other distractions, he had to be polite.

"Hey, Stan!" Gary grinned and ran up to him as he was walking out of the school doors. He'd jumped up from sitting on a wall when he spotted him, like he'd been waiting.

"Hey, Gary." Stan smiled back. "Sorry, I'm kind of in a rush to get to Kyle's car."

"Actually that's why I'm here," Gary explained quickly, walking alongside Stan who was heading for the parking lot. "He told me to ask you to get a ride with Kenny instead because he's going to the mall with Bebe. Then he asked me to wink." Gary winked and grinned. "But I told him I'd give you a lift, so here I am!"

"Oh, thanks, Gary... I can walk?"

"I'm happy to give you a lift!"

"I know you are, yeah." Stan started walking with Gary towards his car. It was a relief he didn't have Kenny forcing him a lift - he would have been bound to ask questions about Christophe which Stan wouldn't have been able to avoid answering.

"How are you, buddy?" asked Gary.

Stan felt a warm feeling in his stomach whenever he was asked this question recently. Before it would have been, 'Fine', or 'Okay I guess'. But now he could honestly answer: "I'm feeling really good!"

"That's great!" Gary stopped walking and unlocked his car, motioning for Stan to get in. "You and Christophe are good for each other. Ignore all the drawings Amanda left in the back."

Stan practically fell into his seat as what Gary said registered in his ears. He stared at his friend as he got in too. "What did you just say?!"

"Oh, well, she wanted me to have them as good luck or something. She's actually drawn one of you. I think she-"

"No, no, Gary, not that... the other thing." Stan looked at him expectantly. "About me and Christophe."

"I think you make a nice couple." Gary smiled.

"We're not a couple!"

"Don't worry, I know it's a secret, I haven't told anyone."

"What the hell-"

"Don't swear."

-are you talking about?"

Gary sighed. "Okay, I thought there was a connection between you that day when you sat out of running because of your... ankle..."

"You knew it was... more?" Stan blushed.

"I'm not as naïve as everyone thinks! I saw you wince when you sat down. Anyway, I also saw you kissing in the hallway this one time. And then just the way you act with each other, and him joining with the football game. It's all so cute and just so good for you." Gary started his car and shifted it into reverse.

"Gary, Christophe and I _are not_ an item. It's just... we're just... _casual._" Stan tapped his fingers on the door of the car as Gary began driving, feeling very confined, very trapped, in the small car. "I just use him for sex."

"You... use him for sex?" Gary frowned. "You do casual?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Stan, you just put so many emotions into everything that I didn't think it was possible. I'm sorry but I thought you were in a secret relationship. You look so... _together_!"

"Well, we're not, okay. I can sleep with other people. I could have a whole range of people I'm seeing."

"_Do_ you?"

"No... but that's not the point."

"Sounds like the point to me."

Stan scowled out of the window at the sidewalk as it blurred past. "Okay, you've got to promise not to tell anyone this, Gary. And I mean _anyone_. Not even Kyle, 'cos he doesn't know anything at the moment."

Gary nodded his head. "Of course, man. You can trust me." And when it came to trust, there really was no better person to tell than Gary. Stan felt already lifted just at the thought of finally telling this to someone else, even if it wasn't the person he really wanted to tell.

"I have feelings for him. I just want him. I hate the idea of him with someone else."

"Well I knew that! And I think he feels the same way."

Stan scoffed. "That's ridiculous."

"You're a good catch, Stan. I'd want you if I were gay... Can I say that? I'm not sure..." Gary laughed. "It's okay, I'm not."

"...Thanks, Gary."

"You should tell him."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious I'm telling you. You don't have to take my advice but I think you have the chance to be seriously happy, and I want to see my buddy happy!" Stan caught Gary's eye in the mirror. He'd seemed extremely genuine and must have believed that they really did like each other. It made Stan hopeful and depressed at the same time.

"Thanks," Stan sighed.

"You should ask him on a date."

"Oh... maybe... I don't know... I just... He... I..."

"Let's change the subject," Gary said quickly. "I think you should could round for dinner soon. My family love you and Amanda keeps asking after you. She has a crush on you. It's cute really, if not a little annoying. She makes out like you're Superman."

Stan chuckled, happy Gary had noticed his strain. "I am."

"She even drew a picture of you like that." Gary shook his head. "It's back there. But don't look, it's embarrassing."

Stan ignored Gary and did the opposite, turning to sweep his eyes over the pictures, mainly of houses and flowers, but there was one there of him in a cape, flying in the sky over tall buildings with a very big smile on his face. He grinned to match it and turned back. "Tell her I saw the pictures in your car and think they're lovely."

"Don't encourage her. Though... I kind of brought you up again when she was enthusiastic about Kenny. You're safer really... I don't want her delving into Kenny's life and finding out things she really doesn't need to know." Gary raised his eyebrows suggestively. "About _sex_."

"Yeah, fair enough." Stan frowned. "What was Kenny doing at yours anyway?"

"He's good at History."

Stan cocked his head. "... I'm going to need more than that?"

"A project!" Gary smiled. "Kyle can't take it anymore, so I decided to do it with him instead. He seemed really happy with the idea that we'd be working together, so here's hoping." He crossed his fingers on the wheel. "He's a nice guy."

"He doesn't try to molest you or anything?"

Gary laughed. "No, of course not, silly. Actually, he's very well-behaved and quite quiet. Seems to listen to everything I say. Must be my Mormon magic."

"Man, I wish I could get some of that. He's always squeezing my ass."

"Don't swear. And he only does that to me when other people are around. When we're alone he's different." Gary pulled to a stop outside Stan's house and leaned in to give him a hug. Stan laughed and accepted, reaching down to squeeze Gary's behind because he couldn't resist the timing of that moment. Gary squeaked and laughed. "Get out of my car!"

Stan hopped out and grinned. "Thanks for the lift, Gazza."

"Any time. I enjoyed the company." Gary nodded his head and then drove away, waving at Stan.

Stan smiled as he unlocked his door. He'd quite enjoyed having a chance to talk to Gary. But some of the things Gary said: was it that obvious that he liked Christophe, and did Christophe really like him back? He sighed and shook his head. It was Friday night and he hadn't arranged anything with Christophe, Kyle wasn't around, his mom was at Alan's, he couldn't handle Kenny, so he'd decided he would order a pizza and watch Die Hard.

Before when he was doing this he would have noticed the loneliness creep up on him, sadness wash over at how he hated his life. But as the evening passed he realised that these feelings never appeared, and rather than hating the alone time, he was welcoming it, seeing it in a completely new way and not feeling threatened by it. His relationship with himself was becoming healthier!

He knew it was all down to one boy.

* * *

"So why are we going to Broflovski's house?"

"To get the History project so I can put the finishing touches to it."

"And zen where are we going?"

"To the mall so I can get some new shoes," replied Gregory in exasperation. It was the following morning and he was driving his car with a grumpy French boy as his passenger. "Because these are falling apart." That wasn't true, they had one tiny scratch on the leather. Christophe sighed.

"And why am I coming wiz you?" he asked.

"Because you love me." Gregory beamed. "And I'm buying you lunch."

"Ah, oui." Christophe chuckled and looked out of the window. "I knew zere was something positive."

"You'll love helping me find a pair of shoes."

"No I won't. I guarantee zat I won't. Ze shopkeepers of your posh and expensive shops always look down on me. And you can never make your mind up and try on a million pairs zat all look ze same!"

"They're all _different_."

"And zey always mistake me as your boyfriend and I hear zem whispering about how you could do better."

"Better than you?" Gregory scoffed. "They don't know what they're talking about, the bastards. In fact _you _deserve someone very special." He looked over at Christophe and Christophe looked back. "Speaking of which, do you have a boyfriend you're not telling me about? Because it's fine if you want to keep them as a secret but you know you can trust me..."

Christophe could just tell Gregory was looking at him with a concerned, enquiring expression. And in that moment he did really want to tell Gregory, and probably would have, but he didn't want to create that problem for Stan, particularly as they weren't anything serious.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend." He frowned, not aware that Gregory had noticed anything different. He'd tried to keep himself like he always was around Gregory. "Why?"

"Just wondering about your life... If there's anything you want to tell me..."

Christophe chuckled. "Okay, I've 'ad sex recently, but eet was not serious and I do not 'av a boyfriend." He would like to, definitely would like to make Stan his own, but he wasn't.

"Who is he?"

"Eh, zat's not important."

"Why won't you tell me who with?"

"Why won't _you _tell me who zis man you're een love wiz ees?"

Gregory frowned. "Because it's too complicated."

"Well mine ees also complicated." Christophe crossed his arms. "All I'll tell you ees zat he's a very lovely person, a very good kisser and has ze nicest ass I've ever seen."

"... Nicer than mine?"

Christophe chuckled. "Oui. Eet just beats yours I'm afraid."

"Well, damn, must be hot." Gregory laughed and then sighed again. "Okay, the man's name is Charles. He's called Charles."

Christophe nodded his head slowly. "Okay, thank you, zat's a start." He looked out the window again and saw that they were coming up on Kyle's house, because he was stood outside with Stan, and they were inspecting his car. Stan looked so sexy bent over and looking at the engine that Christophe had to control himself not to jump out of the moving car and leap on him in an attack of kisses.

He only just managed not to.

Kyle had begged Stan on the phone until he'd agreed to check his car. He was taking Bebe on an expensive date to a new Italian restaurant in town and was concerned with a noise it was making, even though Stan could never hear the noise. Stan didn't have anything else planned so he'd agreed and had just thrown on some old, slightly dirt-stained clothes. But now he was regretting it, because Christophe was staring at him and he suddenly felt very unclean and unattractive. He turned away and moved slightly behind the car as Christophe and Gregory approached.

"Hello," spoke Gregory, aiming it at Kyle. "I've come to collect the project."

Kyle smiled politely and nodded. "Sure, dude. You better come up and see what you want to take." He pulled on his hat as he lead Gregory away. Stan knew why. Kyle hated showing his hair around Gregory because he felt it was so big and horrible compared to Gregory's neat style. Stan hated this, and _loved_ Kyle's hair. Such a shame.

Gregory gave a disapproving glance as he swept his eyes over Stan on the way past him. Stan just shook his head and looked away.

"'Ello," said Christophe, appearing next to him with a flirtatious smile. It almost felt like this boy could never be innocent. Stan's cheeks caught a blush instantly.

"Hey."

Christophe smirked and pulled Stan towards him by his belt loops. "I can't resist you like zis." He stayed holding on and leaned into Stan to give him a quick and heated kiss, which Stan groaned and kissed back to, confused and surprised, but pleasantly.

"Mmmm." Stan pulled his lips away and gasped, then pushed them along Christophe's jaw. "L-Like what?"

"Playing wiz cars and een zese clothes. You look sexy."

He felt his face heat up even more. "I - I'm wearing dirty clothes." He'd even taken his jacket off, so he didn't get any grease on it, leaving him cold and quite exposed for outside in South Park.

"Mmmm, all zat's missing ees eef you were covered een water." Christophe ran his hands through Stan's hair. "I'd cover you completely in water eef I could."

"Is that a pleasure of yours? To see people dirty and wet?"

"Seeing you would be."

"Maybe you can," whispered Stan. "M-Maybe we could shower together." He pushed Christophe's hands out of his hair and stepped away, before anyone would be able to see them. They obviously couldn't be exposed like that. Christophe looked annoyed by this but didn't complain, because his mind suddenly seemed to register what Stan had said.

"Oh, fuck, yes, zat's happening. Sheet." He smirked. "Zat's ze wet part, but what about ze dirty? - Can I fuck you against ze tiles? Zat would work."

Stan bit his lip and imagined what Christophe was suggesting, particularly what Christophe would look like in all of this, water rolling over his face and down his toned chest as he held Stan close and thrust into him. "Oh... Oh hell yes."

"Good." Christophe grinned.

Stan felt like it was now or never. If he didn't say what he really wanted, then he may never, and then he may regret it. Gary was right; it looked like maybe he had a chance here...

"Chris, I was - uh - wondering if you'd like to... Well, I mean, you..." Stan sighed and cursed in his head. Why was this so God damn hard? They'd already had sex for crying out loud! "You. Me. Movies." He cringed.

"Me... You... Movies?" Christophe asked with a small smirk. "Are you asking me to go to the movies wiz you?"

"... Yes. Yes, I think I am." Stan blushed and looked down at his shoes. "And I hate to pressure you for a reply but Gregory and Kyle will be back out any minute and I'd prefer it just to be the two of us and I think they'd be freaked out anyway, and of course it would raise-"

"I'd love to."

"-questions about... Wait. What?" Stan looked up.

"I'd love to see a movie wiz you!" Christophe smiled kindly and put his hand on Stan's shoulder. "So relax." He pulled him close again and gave him a very short peck on the lips, then let his hand drop. Stan beamed.

"Great!"

"Great." They both smiled at each other. Christophe motioned to the car. "Ees something wrong wiz ze car?"

Stan ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "No, Kyle was just worrying about it. I can't see any problems."

"So you know zis stuff zen?"

"I'm quite good. I guess I just understand what's going on. And I find it interesting too."

"You see, looking at zat, I just don't understand ze first thing about what's going on." Stan grinned and watched Christophe's face as he peered into the engine. "Eet just looks like a big black mess of... stuff."

"Well, in a way, it is." Stan laughed and leaned over with Christophe as he began to explain the basics, their hands grazing and their shoulders touching.

They continued talking about Stan's love of cars and skills until they heard Kyle and Gregory approaching and turned their attention back to them. Stan automatically scowled at Gregory, who was carrying a zip folder full of notes, which also contained a pen drive. He and Kyle were sure to get full marks on any project they did together.

"Don't scowl, Stanley, your face is too ugly for it."

Stan transformed it to a grin. "Thanks for the advice, Greg. I'll remember that." He skipped back over to the car and picked up a plastic cup of water he had balanced on top of it. He tipped it to drink, but the way he was holding it equalled disaster, and Stan meant it to. He played the part well, gasping as it seemed to slip accidently down his hand, water pouring down his chest and seeping into his shirt before the plastic hit the ground and bounced. A little water splashed to his face and over his lips.

He looked up and knew Christophe's glowing green eyes saw right through him as he stood before them all, light blue t-shirt clinging to his skin in the areas that water had fallen over and showing the promise of his toned chest - a little preview of what could potentially happen. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the car as if annoyed, hoping he pleased Christophe, hoping it left a lasting picture of him in his mind, and therefore a thought.

They were going to the movies together, and what ever happened there, they were bound to be having sex in the shower afterwards.

Gregory called him an idiot and Kyle laughed, but he didn't care, because Christophe's cheeks had flushed pink and he seemed to swallow hard. The wink he gave Stan as he turned to walk away was enough to make the fact that the water was slowly freezing all worthwhile...

After all, as long as Stan didn't freeze his ass off, nothing really mattered.


	8. Dates and Disaster

**A/N: Hello again lovers of Stanley and Christophe. I really need to update my other story (and will do soon!) but this one was ready first and I realise it's been a while! (Sorry!) Thank you very much for your reviews!**

* * *

Stan looked at himself in the mirror, worrying that he'd overdone it. The long-sleeved, light-blue, button-up shirt he was wearing had been a good idea while he was getting dressed but now he just felt stupid. He knew that teamed with his black jeans it looked smart and the colour really complimented his eyes, but was it too much? They were just going to the movies after all... and Christophe didn't wear clothes like this; he'd probably still be wearing mud-splattered combats and an old t-shirt. This probably wasn't anything to him, just something to fill his time. Because, really, what would Christophe want from Stan?

Stan shook his head and kept it on. It would look fine under a more casual jacket with converse on his feet. Besides, Christophe was used to Gregory wearing these types of shirts every day; he probably wouldn't even notice! Stan tried to fool himself that he didn't want Christophe to notice, but this was a lie. He wanted him to be impressed. He messed with his hair, which was luckily behaving itself because he'd just been to have it cut. (Total coincidence... really... nothing to do with looking nice for Christophe...)

Did he look too gay? Did he not look gay enough? Would Christophe appreciate the scent of the cologne he was wearing, or would it seem too spicy... not spicy enough? So many questions swirled around his head that he started to feel like he was going insane, slowly torturing himself about things he'd never bothered over before. Why was he such a girl?

He ran back up the stairs to get his wallet, determined to not look in the mirror any longer, and almost collided with his mom on the landing as she was walking out of the bathroom.

"Stanley, be careful!" she scalded, stepping back.

"Sorry, mom." He smiled briefly, but didn't stop, running past her into his room. He was meant to be meeting Christophe at his house so they could walk to the movies together. Neither of them had cars, but Stan found he was quite looking forward to the walk with Christophe, especially as it was cold and they would probably stand close together for warmth. His mom didn't leave, instead standing in his doorway and looking him up and down.

"Where are you going?"

Stan turned around to look at her. "To the movies. I told you earlier."

"Oh, yeah." She frowned. "Who are you going with."

"A friend."

"Who is this friend?" she asked with a tone in her voice that seemed to say, 'You can't fool me.' "Do I know them?"

"Just... Just someone from school, Mom. Geez."

"Is it a date?" She smiled at him. "Because that's fine if it is. You know I support you... And the fact you're... you know."

"That I'm gay?" finished Stan in a flat tone.

"Yes - that." She rubbed her arms awkwardly and continued. "Is he a nice boy... friend? You should bring him over and let me meet him. What does he look like?"

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mom, it's not a date."

"Of course it is, Stanley. I can tell by how you're dressed and behaving, like you used to with Wendy, but even more so. It's sweet."

Stan sighed. "Fine. He has brown hair. That's all you're getting." He smiled as he walked past her and gave her a fleeting sideways hug. "I'll see you later."

"Have a lovely evening."

"Thanks," Stan replied, genuinely grateful of his mom's support. He gave her a last happy smile and then ran down the stairs, almost tripping on the last step, and stumbled out of the door. If this went well, things could be brilliant; he could just feel that something was about to change.

* * *

Christophe hated his clothes at this moment, never noticing how dirty and bland they all were. He'd never bothered about wearing anything that was actually _nice _before, and now he was stumped. After a lot of cursing and throwing things all over his bedroom floor, he'd decided on a white t-shirt (surprisingly clean, probably never worn) and a smart black jacket that Gregory had forced him to buy for some stupid dinner party or something. He hoped the t-shirt dressed it down enough. Stan didn't need to know how hard he was trying. He left his hair uncombed for this reason, but he had showered for rather a long time, and shaved some stubble away that was growing.

He grinned when he heard the doorbell ring and quickly grabbed his things. He didn't know why but there was something about Stan he just couldn't resist, and it stretched further than anything physical. Sure, the sex had been the biggest, if not only, factor at first. Christophe had been so aroused by Stan's ass and blush that he hadn't really thought much else that first night other than the fact he wanted to be inside him and suck all over his toned body. But he also remembered the way he'd been entertained. He just loved the boy's attitude about Gregory, and how dedicated he was to discovering something he could use against him. He'd appreciated the way Stan had joked with him, flirted even. That boy had the type of inviting character Christophe hadn't interacted with much in his life. And getting stuck in a tree: he was special.

And now he felt a desire to be closer to Stan, to share interests - and so far they had more in common than they thought they would. He wanted to know some of Stan's secrets, and maybe, when he was very comfortable... maybe he'd share some back. Christophe admitted this was a flaw of his. He either told people lies, or shocking truths that sounded personal but really weren't important to him. To actually share a memory in his life, particularly if it was _happy_, was a very hard thing to do. He knew that was one of the reasons he and Craig hadn't been able to have a future. Hopefully Stan would be more understanding. _But how could he be understanding if he didn't know?_

Christophe sighed. It didn't matter tonight. Tonight was about having fun. A first date? Just meeting up as friends? ... Sex? - he hoped so.

He took a deep breath and then pulled open the door with a smile. This smile immediately dropped when he saw who was on the other side.

"Christophe."

"..."

"_Christophe_."

"Father?" he replied in faint, shocked, French. This man was older, at least ten years. His tanned skin held wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead. There was what appeared to be a scar on the bottom of his chin. But he had the same eyes Christophe had stared into in both joy and terror. The same pair of lips that had either curved into a menacing smirk or a friendly grin. He'd put on weight, weathered, deteriorated with the years, but it was still him.

Christophe could feel his dad looking over him slowly, could feel those dark piercing eyes not just looking _at_ him but looking _into_ him. He was being taken in again, judged by his appearance at what type of young man he'd become. And he could tell by his father's reaction, that he wasn't too happy with what he saw, or at least it wasn't what he'd been picturing all these years. "I expected you to be covered in dirt, but I find you clean and presentable?" He scoffed. "Why are you wearing that jacket? Are you a faggot?"

This is what his dad said after all the years they hadn't seen each other; after running away? _These _were his first words? Insults and pain. "I'm going out," replied Christophe bluntly, intent on pushing past his father. He wanted him gone immediately and for this not to be happening. He knew he couldn't leave him alone in the house though, so he was stuck.

"A date?" His father laughed harshly. "What girl would want you? You'd be a terrible boyfriend."

How could his father possibly claim to know? He hadn't seen Christophe in over ten years yet he was acting like he knew every flaw, every secret, every negative point about his son. It seemed all he wanted to do was bring him down. Why was he doing this? Christophe looked him in the eyes. "Actually, it's a boy."

"Oh... perfect. I just knew I had a faggot for a son. I'm glad I left now. Who would've wanted to raise you?"

"Why are you here?" Christophe ignored how his father's words were slowly breaking into parts of himself he thought were firmly sealed shut. He hated the short stab he got in his heart. He knew that, deep down, he'd always still loved his dad. Because he'd left when Christophe was very young, he didn't understand properly why he did it, and still held out that maybe his dad would come back. He'd felt like maybe it was his fault. Over time, these feelings changed; he realised what a terrible man his father was, that they were safer and happier without him, and whatever hole he had inside of him, it was better than some of the alternatives.

"To see how you've turned out. Obviously that was a waste of time."

"Do you seriously think that _you _can judge me?"

Christophe's dad smirked. "Yes."

"You can't!"

"Yes, I can. I know you'll take note of everything I say, like the fact you're a disappointment. A faggot with a boyfriend?" He scoffed.

"You can leave now," yelled Christophe, anger in his voice. This man, he was even worse than the memories; and there was nothing good about him! "You've seen who I am, now you can leave!"

"I don't think so; I haven't even seen your mother. Is she home?" He pushed his way past Christophe and into their home. Christophe was not strong enough to keep him out.

"No, and she does not want to see you." Christophe tried to step in front of his father, to stop him going any further.

"You can't really talk for your mother."

"You certainly can't! Fuck off before she gets home and do yourself a favour!" He was already panicking on the inside about what might happen if his parents saw each other again. He just couldn't stand to see his mother hurt like that. This was not what she needed. She needed to never see this man again, to never have to face his leering smile or his cruel hands.

Christophe's dad narrowed his eyes, but still smirked like he was highly amused by this situation. "You've got quite a mouth on you for defending your mother, particularly for a kid that was such a terrible mistake."

"Shut up!"

"You were always a mistake. Your mother didn't want you, I didn't want you; you were nothing to us."

"I know. Most children's fathers read them bedtime stories. You told me tales of attempted abortion and clothes hangers." He had to remember to keep taking deep breaths. "Why didn't you just abort me?"

"Your mother wouldn't hear of it. She said it was evil. When she did her little trick with the clothes hanger she was completely out of it on drugs. And then she was taken into hospital and the doctors kept a close eye on her so you wouldn't be harmed." Christophe's father scoffed. "And then you were born and she saw your little face and suddenly that was it, you were perfect, and she was going to reform herself, change her ways."

Christophe had heard the story before, but not the last part; that was new. He'd never been told his mother saw him as perfect before and she'd certainly never told him any stories about her reforming. "What?"

"God. She found hope in God to carry her through. She held you for hours, cuddling you and crying as your auntie read her the bible. Stupid bitch."

"Don't call her that!" snapped Christophe. "Don't ever say a bad word against her!" He glared up at his dad.

"Don't tell me what to do." His dad shoved harshly, using the brute force in his arms to make his son stumble backwards. "Show some respect for your father."

"You lost all rights to call yourself my father when you abandoned me."

Christophe was faced with the angry sight of his father clutching the collar of his shirt and scowling into his eyes. "Your mother made us move here to America for a fresh start. She wanted me to_ care _for you, start a happy family."

"She wanted you to stop drinking too didn't she?" asked Christophe, showing no fear and making no struggle to escape his father's clutch. He wasn't scared, even if he was in danger. he wasn't a little boy anymore and this man couldn't push him around. "But you couldn't stop drinking."

Christophe's father growled and pushed him against a wall with a sudden shocking force, holding him there, pinned. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't understand." Christophe stared into his father's eyes. "I don't understand how you could hit your six year old son as he stared up, terrified into your face. I don't understand how you could live with seeing the bruises _you'd made_ and then do it all again as he cried for mercy. I don't understand." Christophe heard no more words from his dad, just the slight whoosh of the wind and then he felt the pain of his childhood.

* * *

Stan heard his phone ringing and pulled it out of his pocket. He blushed slightly when he saw who it was and picked up his walking pace as he answered. "Sorry I'm late," he said straight away. "I'm almost-"

"Wait," interrupted Christophe.

"What?" Stan frowned and stopped walking.

"I'm going to have to cancel tonight." He sounded sharp and strained in his voice. It, along with what he said, made Stan immediately depressed. He felt such deflation fill him along with immediate thoughts that Christophe never wanted to see him in the first place. He tried to shake this though, and remain positive. There could be a reason that explained everything.

"Oh... Why?" He tried not to sound too sad.

"I'm seeing Gregory. Gregory wants to see me."

"You cancelled for Gregory!?" Stan couldn't help yelling, this excuse instantly making him angry. "But we had a date!"

I'm sorry but I... Wait - a date?" Christophe sounded surprised. Stan panicked and gulped. Oh shit, he'd let that one slip. What the fuck was he going to do now? Hide in the bushes all night, yes, become a crazy stalker and never show his face again. "Was eet a date?" asked Christophe quieter, sounding a little broken.

"No, of course not," scoffed Stan. "We're just... we don't..." Stan trailed off, not knowing what to say to defend himself.

"But you just said eet was a date."

"Slip of the tongue, dude. It's fine... I'll just call some other guy I've been wanting to see." Was he going too far? Yes, he was going too far. Because not only was that a lie but he was probably ruining any chances if he actually did have them with Christophe. There went his brain, speaking for him, trying to make sure he didn't sound like a loser and remind Christophe that he was popular. He should probably tell him about a latest cause he'd taken up or injustice he'd seen to top it off. But above counting some butterflies and going on one protest about the deep-frying of penguins, Stan hadn't done much in the way of that.

"Ah. Well you can go call that guy now because I can't do tonight." Stan felt really bad now because these words suggested Christophe didn't care if he was seeing another guy, but then he heard a sigh down the phone. Something about Christophe did not sound right. Stan was sure he wouldn't just cancel for Gregory. But... if he said he did then what reason did Stan have not to believe him? What if it was because Gregory was in trouble?

"Because of Gregory?"

"Oui, Gregory," Christophe muttered. "There's... he's... upset about his Grandma." The excuse sounded weak and the way Christophe delivered it, even weaker.

"Right," whispered Stan.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry."

"I'll see you..."

"See you tomorrow, dude!" Stan tried to sound bright again.

"... See you soon." And Christophe hung up the phone.

Stan sighed and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, turning around and walking back in the way he came. He wouldn't go home because his mom would ask too many questions, so would Kyle if he went there (due to his outfit). He didn't feel like making a cover story up or having to spill the whole truth out. Gary was too cheerful for the mood he was feeling in, and he couldn't handle Amanda if she was crushing on him. He knew Cartman wouldn't ask questions or say anything past calling him a fag, but he wasn't sure whether Cartman would let him in his house at all.

Kenny it was then. Kenny would ask a few questions, but at least Stan could answer honestly, and he knew that the blond wasn't doing anything this night. They could have a beer and watch TV. It wasn't close to seeing a movie with Christophe, but it would at least give him some company. He didn't want to be alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Stan was sat in the cafeteria the following lunch time. He was staring disdainfully at a cheese sandwich that really hadn't done anything wrong, and was in fact very tasty, offering him the energy and nutrients he needed. But Stan had no appetite, no desire to eat. He just kept thinking about Christophe and how off he had sounded. He needed to know if Christophe had been seeing Gregory or if he cancelled for someone else. He wanted it to be clear in his mind where they stood, and if he'd ever have a chance of a proper date. If he didn't, he was contemplating ending the deal - this longing for more was beginning to torture him and he didn't think it was fair to have sex with Christophe like that. Kenny had advised against it when Stan had spilled everything to him the previous night. Stan had to finally agree with him.

He looked to Kyle across the table from him; he was busy in a conversation with Kenny, and Cartman was joining in with that when he could. Their voices were raised and Kyle was frowning. Perhaps they were arguing? Stan was a little zoned out that he couldn't tell. Further across the tables he could see Butters and Tweek discussing something, with Craig, Clyde and Token nearby. There were all the girls, who always crowded together on a big table, a few boys interspersed between them.

He looked at Wendy, looked where she was looking; she was staring at Gregory with an angry look in her eyes. Gregory was sat alone, eating without looking at the food, eyes instead fixed on some work he must have been doing, or at least reading. The only time he looked away was to glance up at the clock. It was clear Wendy wanted Gregory to notice her for some reason - in Stan's experience it was so she could turn her head away, act angry, and remind him he'd done something wrong. If Gregory had seen Wendy, he was not at all fazed and ignoring her, because he had nothing to do with her anymore.

Stan stared at Gregory too now. Why was he alone? Where _was_ Christophe? Sure, it wasn't unheard of for Christophe to miss a day of school, but combined with how he'd sounded on the phone, Stan had this terrible feeling that something was wrong with him. He couldn't ask Gregory though, not with how much they hated each other, and especially not with Wendy watching!

He turned to his left, to the person who was humming, bopping his head to a weird tune only found and enjoyed in the mind of Gary Harrison. Such a happy person and so comfortable in himself, he didn't care who heard. Stan tapped him on the shoulder.

"Gary, can you do me a _really big_ favour? It's a really big one," Stan whispered, making sure no one else heard.

"What is it?" Gary whispered back, grinning like he enjoyed the secrecy.

"I'm asking a lot."

"So what are you asking?" Gary leaned closer to Stan.

"Can you talk to Gregory and find out where Christophe is and if he saw him last night?" Stan bit his lip. "I know it's a big favour."

"Hmm." Gary smiled. "I can try for you! I like Gregory."

"There's obviously something wrong with your brain, but thank you." Stan watched as Gary laughed and got up. He walked over to Gregory quickly and happily and sat down opposite him without saying a word. Stan loved the shocked look on Gregory's face, mixed with a little annoyance but covered by a need to be polite. He flicked his eyes away for a moment so that Gregory wouldn't know he was watching. He kept giving glances, but tried to make them look like he was giving them to Kyle. He could see Gary laughing, and even Gregory cracking a smile. Then Gary asked Gregory something and he frowned, shaking his head. He shrugged and his eyes swept over Gary, like he was studying him. Stan didn't know what to think so he just sat patiently waiting.

When Gary got up again and grinned a goodbye at Gregory, the Brit looked deep in thought. Gary walked back to Stan, but stopped to chat to Pip for just a few minutes. This helped actually because Stan was sure Gregory would be watching Gary. By the time Gary got back to him, Gregory had looked at the clock again and then jumped up, snatching his stuff together and throwing his lunch in the bin, before rushing off.

"So, what did he say?" Stan asked.

"He definitely didn't see Christophe last night," whispered Gary. "And he hasn't seen him today. Apparently Christophe is feeling ill." He frowned, a slightly miffed face appearing, as if he was struggling with something. "He was looking at me funny."

"I noticed that too. What do you think it was about?"

"I think... I think he knows Christophe's been acting differently lately - because of you - and then I start asking questions about him." Gary leaned in closer to Stan, and Stan noticed Kenny's eyes flick to them at this, almost as if he'd been secretly watching them the whole time and now was really desperate to know what they were whispering about. "Do you think Gregory's trying to find out which guy Christophe is seeing?"

"And he thinks it could be you?" asked Stan. A little amused smile broke onto his face. "He thinks _you_ could be gay?"

"I know I'm not but he doesn't. It's not always easy to spot." Gary looked down at his food and picked an apple up, spinning it in his hand as he continued speaking. "I don't mind Gregory thinking that for now, but I'm not going to lie to him if he asks. I won't tell him about you, but if what you have with Christophe is serious then he's bound to find out. This _is _Gregory we're talking about."

"And he already knows I have a 'secret lover'," Stan sighed. "Though I'm not sure if that's true anymore."

"What?" Gary looked shocked. "I thought it was going well."

"We were going to the movies last night but he cancelled on me, because of Gregory. Only... Gregory says he didn't see him last night. And you believed his tone?"

"He was definitely telling the truth. I don't think he saw a reason not to." Gary took a bite of the apple and flicked his eyes to Kenny, who was still looking at them. Stan looked at Kenny too and smiled sadly. The blond smiled back like he was offering sympathy. These looks stopped when Kyle coughed loudly and asked if he was missing something. Stan quickly shook his head and went back to glaring at his sandwich, Kenny just shrugged, and Gary started humming.

When Kyle had rolled his eyes and got up from the table to go and talk to Bebe, Gary nudged Stan under the table and whispered quickly: "Go and see him." Stan's stomach twisted, but he agreed.

* * *

Stan took a deep breath and knocked on Christophe's door. It was later that day, as soon after school as he could manage. It had actually been excruciating to sit in the back of the car as Kyle drove straight past Christophe's house and on to Stan's, and not the be able to say anything about it or tell him to stop. He had stared longingly at the closed curtain of Christophe's bedroom window - a sign that he was sick? Perhaps... Whatever it was, Stan had walked back in the direction Kyle had driven him as soon as he was out of the car. And now he was there, waiting for the door to open...

He took a sigh of relief when the door opened, but this changed to a gasp of shock the second he saw the boy's face. It was such a lovely face: tanned skin, full lips, bright green eyes that usually looked so alive and clear. Those eyes didn't look that in this moment though. In this moment, one of those eyes was framed by a very dark, very prominent, black ring. Someone had hit Christophe and it immediately tore into Stan's heart. He found himself pushing the boy backwards and stepping into his house, closing the door. Christophe stared back at him with a look which must have tried to be cold and angry, but soon fell to sad and hurt. His eyes soon told Stan that he'd been hiding something.

"Christophe, what-" started Stan, but he was cut short. The French boy had grabbed him, pulled him close and kissed him forcefully. He pushed his tongue into Stan's mouth as he closed the door and held him against it. Stan's brain was a mixture of shock, confusion and desire. All he could do was tangle his fingers in Christophe's hair and kiss back. This rough treatment probably shouldn't be allowed to continue too far, not until he knew what was going on in the other boy's head.

Stan felt Christophe's hand snake under his shirt to stroke his chest and allowed it for just a little longer, kissing and groaning and holding tight. When he did finally push Christophe away, they were both panting and red-faced, staring at each other like they could hardly believe how out of control they'd become. Stan tried to speak again.

"What happened?"

"I was 'it," replied Christophe, turning and walking away to sit down on the sofa. He motioned for Stan to join him, giving a little reassuring smile. "Zat's all."

Stan narrowed his eyes and sat next to him, keeping enough distance, at least until he got some answers. "Do you feel like filling me in on a little more? Come on. Was this the reason you cancelled our d- ... _plans_ last night?" Godammit; he kept slipping up on that word! "You weren't with Gregory."

"You actually asked Gregory zat?" Christophe raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, of sorts, yes. I was worried... And now it seems I have reason to be." He looked at Christophe's eyes again and felt such a twinge of fear and sadness. Did Christophe have a secret abusive boyfriend he wasn't telling anyone about? Had he gone out and gotten into a fight with a stranger for the fun of it? Had he been doing something else? Something illegal... Stan was really worried.

Christophe looked uncomfortable talking. "I... I don't... I'm not used to sharing..." He held out his hand and seemed to be being cautious as he entwined his fingers with Stan's. Stan felt a tug at his heart and squeezed Christophe's hand back, trying to show him that whatever he wanted to say, he could say it. "I wasn't even going to tell Gregory... but... you... I want to tell you."

Stan felt another skip in his heart. "Then do."

"Eet was my fazer. He was just passing through, visited. We got into an argument - fight - and zen 'e 'it me." Christophe looked on the edge of crying just from saying it, but he didn't. He held it in and took a deep breath. "Zen 'e left. Zen I cancelled our_ date_." He looked away calmly from Stan then, his body language showing that he didn't want a hug, or for Stan to feel sorry for him, he just wanted him there.

Stan swallowed and squeezed Christophe's hand harder. Of course he was freaking out inside and wanted to wrap his arms tightly around Christophe and hold him close, but he didn't want to anger him; he wanted to do whatever the other boy wanted. A father hitting his own son was a terrible thing to happen at any time, but Stan felt especially worried by the way Christophe said it and the way he'd obviously tried to cover it up at first; it all felt like it had happened before. If that were the case, if Christophe's father really had hit him in the past, then he couldn't have been older than a child.

"Oh, Chris..." he whispered.

"Eh, eet's not ze first time," Christophe whispered back.

So Stan's guess had been correct. How heartbreaking. "Can I do anything to help you?" He felt a little helpless now, and had no idea what to do or say. He gently turned Christophe's face back towards him and didn't meet any resistance. He looked at the eye again and saw it would take a long time to heal: such a hard hit.

"You don't 'ave to. You can leave eef you want. I'll understand."

"No! I'm not doing that!" Stan frowned. "You've been alone all day, I want to stay with you."

"I don't want your pity," mumbled Christophe, pulling his face away from Stan's hand.

"Fine, I'm doing it for me._ I_ want to stay because I want to see you, and be around your muscled body, and stroke it, and kiss you." Stan smirked and leaned forward, catching Christophe's lips in a surprise kiss and groaning slightly. "I'm being really selfish," he muttered against them. They both knew it was a lie, but they also knew that this was a way Christophe felt comfortable with reacting, and sure enough, he kissed back.

"You selfish bastard," he mumbled into Stan's lips. "You just want me for my lips. Zat's all I am to you - a human kissing and fucking machine."

"Mmmm, hell yeah." Stan pushed back on Christophe so he was on his back on the couch and Stan was laying on top. He continued the kiss, taking this as an excuse to run his hands through Christophe's hair and be close to him, and it felt great when Christophe wrapped his arms around Stan's back in turn. Now he felt like he was doing more comforting, and it felt better.

A little while later the kiss had finished. Stan had rested his head on Christophe's chest and they both had laid there in a peaceful silence. It was strange, there was so much that could have been said between them, feelings to reveal, but this silence felt like enough. Eventually Christophe spoke, with a small, soft plea:

"Please, no one else can know 'ow zis 'append. I don't want anyone's pity."

"Okay." Stan bit his lip and tilted his head up so he could see Christophe's face again - a much calmer one than before. "So what are you going to say."

"I don't know." Christophe smirked a little. "Maybe zat I fell out of a tree."

"Hmm, I don't think you have the skills for that."

"Oh, eet takes skill? Excuse me thinking you were just being an idiot."

"No. I was being a highly successful spy." Stan grinned and leaned closer to Christophe. "I always meant to do that."

"Oh?" Christophe leaned closer as well, until his forehead was resting against Stan's and their slow breath began to mingle (though this action alone meant that Stan's breathing and heart rate increased). Christophe spoke the words slower. "Why's zat?"

"So you could find me," Stan joked. He chuckled and pressed his lips against Christophe's, but Christophe froze, lips not responding, mouth staying firmly closed and stiffened. Stan pulled away in confusion. "What?"

"You."

Stan frowned. "W-What about me?"

"Do you have feelings for me zat aren't strictly casual?"

The heart was thumping really fast now, panic running through him and pulsing in his veins. Could this be the moment that ruined everything? Stan looked horrified. "I - uh - I... I...!" He started to sound increasingly desperate, the words not forming.

"Because I have feelings for you," continued Christophe in a beautiful sentence which may have just saved Stan a lot of stumbling and awkward excuses. His head span at this declaration. Could it be real? Christophe continued: "You're just so amazing, so cute. I think the reason we're so good together ees that you should be mine."

Stan stared in shock. "What are you saying?"

"I want you to be my boyfriend. You practically are now. We said not exclusive but zere's no one else I want to see and no one who makes me feel like you do. We have something. Why are we denying eet?" Stan's stomach fluttered and heart thumped. A blush spread deeper over his grinning face as he wrapped his arms tight around Christophe's neck, squashing him down. "So ees zat a yes?" Christophe asked as he wrapped his arms tight around Stan's back too.

"Yes!"

"We need a proper first date."

"Yes, we do!" agreed Stan.

"But zat can wait."

"Yes, it can!" Stan agreed with everything.

"For now, we should-" But Stan was already ahead of Christophe and he pushed their lips together as they fell into another long kiss.

* * *

Stan had stayed, they'd eaten and talked, laughing, kissing, hands never leaving each other's bodies for long. Their mouths seemed to find it a waste not to be glued together when they weren't eating or talking, or even when they were talking their sentences would get interrupted. They were both buzzing in a glow, a very distracting one. Christophe had found himself utterly distracted from thoughts of his father and what had happened.

It was sometime in the night, when he'd woken up groggy and dizzy, Stan's arm over his chest and warm breath near his neck. His vision was blurry and there was a salty taste in his mouth. He didn't realise until Stan woke up next to him and held him close in a knowing, comforting and sleepy way, that he was crying. Christophe was crying heavily, long tears and big sobs.

He lay his head on Stan's chest and sobbed through painful tears that ran down his cheek and neck, cold when some ran to the top of his chest. The other tears fell onto Stan's chest, which collected a little pool. Stan caught some of them with a tissue in his hand and unlimited patience. It was as if he'd been expecting it, because he was acting so perfect. When Christophe was done he felt exhausted and drained. Then sometime later he fell back asleep, still with Stan's arms holding him tight, like they were protecting him, and he let himself be protected.

It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.


	10. Paint and Punishment

**A/N: To make up for the longer wait for this chapter, I added the scene at the bottom and really went to town... Enjoy!**

* * *

Stan looked at his canvas, looked to the right of him and scowled. It was the day after he and Christophe had revealed their feelings to each other and he knew that he should have been buzzing, nothing should have been getting him down. Christophe was cheerful despite the countless looks he was getting about his black eye, so Stan should have been too. He was in general - waking up with Christophe that morning and kissing until he had to run home so he could be there for Kyle to pick up, singing down the hallways and even letting Kenny slap his ass during gym. But there was one thing that was annoying him, and it had blond hair and a smug face.

He thought he'd been very clever and sneaky when he walked into art class, sitting so there was only one empty seat between him and Christophe - a seat he didn't think anyone would want to fill. But out of what could have only been hatred, he forgot to account for Gregory. And of course, Gregory took that seat.

It was still life paintings of fruit and Gregory's was looking perfect. Stupid Gregory. It looked like he'd taken a photo of the fruit and stuck it on his canvas - the shape was that accurate. Christophe was humming lightly to himself next to Gregory and making a decent attempt, but purposefully painting the fruit the opposite to the colours they were supposed to be. His purple bananas and blue oranges were attracting a fair amount of attention - almost as much as his black eye - but no one dared to comment, fearing a rude remark, or worse, a threatening glare.

Stan looked at his own failed attempt and sighed. Nothing was as it should be. He'd tried to get the colours right but they'd gone wrong anyway. Well, if his was really bad, he would make himself feel better by putting down Gregory's.

He leaned over Gregory's shoulder and smirked. "Don't you think the shade of red on that apple is a little... bright?"

Gregory looked at the apple and then looked at Stan and frowned. "No."

"Oh..." Stan went back to his painting, dipping his brush in the yellow to tackle the lemon.

"Aren't oranges supposed to be... orange?" queried Gregory, leaning over Stan's shoulder in the same way.

"Dude, it's a lemon."

"Oh..."

"It's clearly not round!"

"Well I'm not sure what shape you'd call that." Gregory flicked his hair and then dipped his brush into some green. "But I suppose you've tried your best."

"And that's really all that matters," replied Stan sarcastically. He flicked his eyes to behind Gregory and saw Christophe laughing silently to himself. He caught Stan's eye and grinned, lifting his brush and making a motion with it to his face. Stan knew immediately what he meant and in the few seconds he took before he made his next move, all he saw was the dark bruise around Christophe's eye, but the amused look on his face at what was occurring. He wanted that amusement to continue.

He calmly but quickly ran his brush down Gregory's cheek. Yellow paint transferred onto the boy's pale skin - a subtle colour, but yet still so obvious. Christophe's eyes opened wide in alarm and he stared in disbelief at Stan. Stan just smirked and looked back at his painting, not daring to see Gregory's reaction.

He soon felt the reaction as a brush was furiously shoved onto his nose, pressed down and twisted in. "Fuck you, Stanley," whispered Gregory, with so much contempt that Stan felt a little shiver run down his spine. Maybe this was a sign that he should quit what he was doing and apologise. But then, even if it was, anyone would be able to tell you that he wasn't going to.

He pretended like he hadn't heard or felt anything, dipping his brush in red paint. When he finally turned to Gregory he smiled slightly. "I'm sorry about the mark on your cheek," he spoke calmly, "and I'm also sorry about the mark on your forehead." With a quick moved he swiped his brush across Gregory's brow. This was met by a growl and flick of blue paint against his chin - Gregory had obviously been ready and prepared, dipping his brush quickly in another colour.

They both glared at each other, flicked their eyes to their paint pots to check on ammunition, and then suddenly attacked. Gregory jumped forwards, Stan grabbed for a pot. Dirty water flew into the air over them at the same time their faces slammed together, paint transferring and mashing, so both of them looked like they'd been hounded by a pack of kindergartener's who were finger-painting and had decided it would be fun to use Stan and Gregory as their canvases. Stan ran his messy fingers through Gregory's hair and Gregory pushed his hand against Stan's cheek as he screamed abuse.

"My clothes! You idiot! These are expensive!" He moved his hand to grab Stan's collar and shook him blindly. Stan's head thrashed back and forth until he was stopped by Gregory slapping him in the face. Every pair of eyes in the classroom were on them now, screams and cheers reverberating. It was clear some people had very strong opinions about who should be winning and Stan was hearing both names being shouted. _Gregory's hair was sacred! That slap was too much! _ He could already sense the video cameras, and knew he should pull himself away, but he did not want to lose this fight.

He didn't punch Gregory, and Gregory didn't punch him back, like they knew that they weren't looking to cause this much physical pain to each other. It was more about making the other look stupid, smearing paint on them and ruining their hair and clothes.

Though it felt like ages, the fight probably didn't last very long, because Stan felt strong hands grab him by the shoulders and pull him up away from Gregory and the very real possibility of having his face clawed off by those manicured nails. He was very grateful actually because Gregory was surprisingly strong and seemed to know what he was doing. He tried to pull out of the person's grip, just to keep up appearances, but then gave up and sank back. It was of course Christophe who was holding him, and that masculine scent was enough to calm him down, make him think rationally.

Shit. He was in so much trouble.

He stared down at the ground, at Gregory, who was being helped up by Gary as he regained his composure. He wasn't even looking at Stan; he was staring ahead of himself with his usual icy coldness. They both stared forward silently when the teacher started to yell and the class hushed, and stayed that way when they got sent to the counsellor and left the room. "I'm sorry," Christophe had mouthed. Stan sighed and smiled lightly shaking his head - it wasn't Christophe's fault he always fought with Gregory. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't want to. Neither said anything to the other on their way there. Maybe it was because they were so angry, but Stan felt it was more likely that they were both embarrassed and scared of the consequences that came from two good students suddenly going berserk and attacking each other with paint.

He couldn't even take a moment to appreciate how ruined Gregory's hair was.

* * *

Mr Evans walked past and paid the two troublemakers sitting outside the counsellor's office a quick glance. Then he did a completely obvious double take and stopped, turning to them and looking down. He was the type of man who wore an impossibly neat suit, with matching handkerchief, cuff links coordinated to his shoes. His brown hair was perfectly combed so not a strand wasn't smoothed back. He hated mess and things becoming untidy to the point where he would wipe water off himself with his hands in the shower before using a towel, so that he didn't get it too wet. He was also the type of man who pre-rinsed before putting plates in the dishwasher, and would never eat breakfast in bed because any crumbs would cause a heart attack.

A few drops of tea splashed from his china mug, and he conscientiously pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the spots of liquid from his hand. He looked down at the two boys. His eyes trailed over the black-haired one briefly - Stan Marsh - a boy he'd heard so many negatives points about he'd almost forgotten he was still human. Then his eyes moved over the other boy: the one with the blond hair (now speckled with green), the light blue eyes and pale face (in areas that weren't covered in paint). He hungrily looked at Gregory, always forgetting how appealing he was between meetings.

He didn't think he could still find anything so irresistible, even covered in so much mess.

Mr Evans was a busy man who'd concluded he didn't have time for a relationship, and people his own age were so complicated and more than likely came with baggage. He knew being a teacher meant he had to obey certain laws and rules about what was appropriate around students, particularly when they were vulnerable and needed help (perhaps about the death of a Grandma). He also knew that if you saw an opening, an indication that the student had romantic feelings for you, then you were to back off immediately. You were not supposed to put a reassuring hand on their shoulder, purposefully keeping it there, slowly stroking and then moving it down till you were pulling that student towards yourself and kissing him.

He could see Gregory was falling in love with him, but for this eighteen year old, he felt nothing but lust. The beautiful youthful body and energy, the way he looked into his eyes that seemed to scream for sex, he felt like he'd hit the jackpot. All he had to do was keep Gregory sweet by giving him small things that seemed like big things so he thought it was moving forward. A night at his house would be the next thing he proposed. They were yet to have sexual relations and he really hoped that would change soon. He wanted to feel Gregory tight around him.

Mr Evans (or Charles) cleared his throat. "What happened here?"

Gregory looked up, keeping his expression neutral. "We had a fight, sir."

Charles raised his eyebrow. "I can see that." He looked between Stan and Gregory. "Quite a big one." He felt a twinge inside his stomach - Gregory could not get suspended. But what could he do? He was an English teacher very late for his class. He saw Gregory shrug at him.

"I don't regret it."

"Me neither," mumbled Stan.

He sighed. "Gregory, you're an almost perfect student, and Stan, I've heard nothing but good about you from other teachers. Try to show you're sorry for your actions and the counsellor may go easy on you." He flicked his eyes to Gregory, still directing his words at both of them but secretly just talking to him. "Don't make trouble for yourself."

"Okay, Sir." Gregory smirked slightly.

Mr Mackey appeared by the door, staring at the sight of them and shaking his head. "Come inside, boys." Stan stood up and stepped inside with Mr Mackey, disappearing from the doorway.

Charles turned to Gregory quickly. "Come to see me in my office the beginning of fourth period, if you don't get sent home." He frowned. "Say the right things."

"I'll see you soon," replied Gregory, with a small wink and knowing smirk as he stood up, walking into the counsellor's office with perhaps more hip shake than was necessary.

Stan was furiously scrubbing his face when Christophe find him in the toilets, using his fingers and some hand soap to get the paint off. Christophe glared at some lower-grade kids who had been watching Stan, and they quickly scuttled away. He laughed and moved closer, looking down at the array of colours in the white sink.

"Zat... Zat escalated quickly."

Stan smirked at him in the mirror. "Things with Gregory usually do."

"What did zey say?"

"It was weird. Gregory owned up to it all. He said he'd been the one to start it and he'd done most of it. Mr Mackey went easy on him - I think maybe because he's grieving and has never been in trouble before? - and we both got off with a warning and a week's detention. He's making us stay for the rest of the day because both of us walking around looking like messes is also punishment."

Christophe breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad Gregory did zat."

"I didn't expect him to. It was _my_ fault and why would he defend me?"

"Eet wasn't _just_ your fault... I think eet was ze easiest thing to do."

"I guess."

"I'm sorry for getting you eento trouble."

Stan frowned. "You didn't. They were all my own actions."

Christophe still felt guilty though. He sighed and looked in the mirror at his own reflection. Though the black eye was horrendous and the thought of it made him feel quite low, he looked funny next to Stan, who had blue paint smudged under his eye like he had badly tried to imitate it. Christophe found himself laughing.

"Look at us! What a pair, ey?" He grinned.

Stan grinned too and continued scrubbing at his face. Without thinking, Christophe helped him, rubbing his cheek. "Zis could be ze cheesy part een a movie where I tell you zat you 'av something on your face and zen we look into each other's eyes and I kiss you... but I'm not putting my face near yours until eet's clean!"

"Oh, and since when have you been bothered by mess?"

"I don't want to be poisoned."

"But me getting poisoned is perfectly fine?"

"... Oui."

"You _beetch_."

Christophe frowned, wondering if he'd heard right the offense just came from Stan's mouth. "Ey?"

"I'm trying to relate to you," explained Stan sincerely with a smile.

Christophe chuckled again. "You're so cute, Marsh. I think I want zat kiss after all." He pulled Stan towards him and into a kiss, making it brief but deep, holding him around the waist. He sighed when he pulled out of it. "Damn you and your fucking irresistible face."

"Eet ees most pleasing, non?"

"You are terrible at doing my accent." Christophe closed his eyes and pulled Stan into another kiss, this one lasting as long as he dared make it without someone catching them. He smirked when he pulled away. "You do realise zat I will 'av to punish you for your behaviour today?"

Stan smirked.

* * *

"Stan Marsh." Christophe stood in front of him, hands on his hips. He looked down with a smug expression on his face that sent Stan's insides shuddering with delight. "You have been brought here on ze charges zat you attacked a blond, unprovoked, getting paint een 'is prize-winning, shampoo commercial hair." Stan sniggered in his hair, this amusement shared in Christophe's eyes. "Do you deny zees charges?"

"No," said Stan confidently.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you correctly. I think what you meant to say was, 'No, _your honour_'."

"No, _your honour_," repeated Stan with an amused smirk. He would play along with Christophe's game, but he wasn't going to do as he said. He had a feeling Christophe didn't want to be obeyed; Christophe wanted Stan to be bad, so he could get the proper punishment. He could already imagine it - the intensity, the pain which would translate into pleasure if he allowed it. Fuck, he wanted it.

"Can you do eet wizout ze attitude?" Christophe took a step closer to him.

"No, _your honour_," said Stan in the same tone.

Christophe tutted and grabbed his shoulders in his large hands, the grip strong and the thrilling first step to what was to come, pulling him up and bending him over the bed. He used force like he was annoyed, like he had a fire inside of him which he wanted to burn Stan with. This is why Stan groaned just at this simple action, his arousal growing instantly as every corner of his mind was immediately filled with Christophe.

He struggled a little, trying to stand up, finding that Christophe kept him down by pressing a knee into his lower back and leaning down over his ear to whisper in it, voice low and throaty:

"I think zat you need to be punished. I think zat someone needs to knock some manners eento you. And since no one else ees around... I'll have to do eet." He bit down on Stan's ear when he'd finished whispering, gradually increasing the pressure until Stan let out a small whimper and pressed his cheek into the mattress under him, giving up the struggle of any sign of fighting Christophe off.

"Yes, I think that's the only way I'll learn not to misbehave. I... I'm so naughty." His heart thumped as he said it, feeling a little embarrassed. He'd never acted like this before and it was hard to know what Christophe would want to hear, find attractive, and what he would get turned off by. Was it possible for Christophe to get turned off if Stan groaned the wrong way or didn't show the correct enthusiasm? He realised he was over-thinking this, and feeling a short slap to his ass with the flat of Christophe's hand stopped all of this worrying.

"You're so naughty, Stanley," Christophe grumbled into his ear. He shifted off him, knee leaving his lower back and hands instead running up Stan's spine, around and back down the front of his chest. Stan could feel the soft tickle of his fingers as they pulled on his belt buckle to unfasten it, and his buttons, before his pants were roughly pulled down his legs, which he kicked a little for effect. His pants were not pulled completely off but rather left around his knees. His underwear joined this so he was left with a bare ass and thighs, perfectly presented to Christophe.

"Look at zis smooth skin," Christophe continued as one of his warm, rough hands stroked over one of Stan's cheeks. "So perfect, so unmarked. It's a shame zat you had to go and be naughty. Such a shame..." He squeezed the cheek he was stroking, slowly moving his hand backwards as the fingers slipped away from the skin, until he was pinching it. Stan gasped at the sharp feeling and arched his back.

"No pinching!" he cried.

"You're not in a position to say zat." Christophe pinched again, but softer this time. His skin was stroked over again and it felt like Christophe was making him wait, taking his time and driving him impatient because he didn't know what would happen next. "Can I bite eet?" He obviously didn't wait for a reply because Stan felt another pressure, this time from something that was bigger and harder. Christophe's bite didn't hurt, but it did shock him again and he gasped. After the bite came a kiss and then a few licks which made Stan's eyes open wide, but these didn't continue.

Christophe's lips were at his ear lobe again and he was whispering. "Did you like zat? Are you ready?" He nibbled on Stan's ear again, which made Stan wonder if Christophe had a thing for ears... or maybe a thing for biting?

"Y-Yes."

"Okay."

Stan felt nothing for a while, just that Christophe's face had pulled away from him. He twitched a little nervously on the bed, waiting, scared to glance over his shoulder in case this made things worse for him. He gulped and could feel his heart thumping fast, and then as he felt the flat of Christophe's hand smack down on him, he cried out in shock. It happened again: two sharp smacks to the same area. He could feel the sting on his ass cheek, hear the loud smack as it sounded around the room. Blood thumped in his ears and he swallowed hard.

Christophe did it again, smacking harder on the other cheek and making Stan groan. Christophe played on this. "Did you enjoy that?" he growled, continuing with his hard smacks. Stan heard every one of them as he felt them, and he groaned louder the more he got. "You're not supposed to enjoy this!" But Stan knew he was. Stan knew that Christophe was doing this as a way of getting him aroused, making him hard and ready and desperate, without even touching his cock. It worked so well.

"Fuck!" he replied, bucking his hips down into the bed and clutching at the sheets with his hands. "Punish me more! I've been so naughty!" He liked how he was finding his own confidence through this and he hoped Christophe appreciated that. Another extremely hard smack to his thighs showed that he did. The smacks were evenly spread and hard, but Christophe probably didn't do as many of them as would usually happen before he moved on. Stan's body was a rush of feelings, and he was as hard as he'd ever been, ready and urgent for what was coming next.

He felt his pants and underwear move from around his knees, down his calves and all the way off his feet, probably to be thrown on the ground. Christophe's hands ran up his legs, over his sore thighs and ass, tracing under his shirt and stopping to grab him around the waist. He gasped as he was rolled over and then pulled and pushed back to his position in front of Christophe, only this time on his back. He could see the boy again, and the hunger in his green eyes, smirk on his lips. When he flicked his eyes down, Stan could see Christophe's bulge in his pants.

"Fuck me now! I need you to fuck me, Christophe." Stan tried to say it as a command, but it came out as a whimper. He could only gaze up at the French boy and hope that this suffering wouldn't be unnecessarily extended because of how Christophe clearly loved seeing Stan a mess like this.

"Hmmm..." Christophe raised his eyebrow and leaned over Stan, pushing him further up the bed and then wrapping his fingers in the boy's shirt. "Do you deserve eet? Are you leaning your lesson?"

"Yes! Yes I am, p-please." Stan could feel sweat now, under his arms slightly staining through his shirt and threatening to do the same on his back. His hair had already stuck to his forehead practically from the start of Christophe treating him this way. It was just so new, so different and arousing that how could his body not get insanely hot? Being left in his shirt only furthered that, and Christophe knew it would, knew exactly what he was doing to his boyfriend.

"How can I know you're telling ze truth?" purred Christophe, face now close to Christophe, breath from the words falling onto Stan's lips and causing them to tingle with a sudden urgency to kiss. Stan grabbed the back of Christophe's head and smacked their lips together. He was allowed this for a few moments - a heated and needy kiss where both sides showed they were both desperate. He groaned and drank in Christophe's taste and scent. But it wasn't long enough, couldn't be long enough, before Christophe ripped his lips away and slapped Stan's face in the same place Gregory did earlier. "You've not learned at all."

Stan whimpered. "I have! Yes I have!"

"You're so naughty, you just stole a kiss!"

"That's because I want you. I need you inside me!" Stan begged, knowing this is what Christophe wanted. He wanted the absolute power and the thrill of having someone pleading for him, and Stan didn't care, because he wanted to do the pleading. He wanted to feel like he'd won Christophe over and then get taken so completely.

Christophe pressed his lips to Stan's neck, hot breath on his skin. "Beg," he commanded, biting down.

"I-I am. P-Please!" Stan groaned at the pressure on his neck, sweat beading in the places Christophe's lips touched, and under his collar.

"Beg more. Beg me, Stan, and zen I'll make eet happen." It was clear this kind of power and dominance came naturally to Christophe, or else he'd practised on people a whole lot. Stan liked to think it was the former, but if the latter were true then he'd approach it from the angle that they were all just little practices, for him, the main event.

"Christophe, I'm so naughty! Please fuck me! I-I'm so naughty! I n-need you to punish me with your huge cock!" If complementing his side didn't work then Stan wasn't sure what would. He shifted under the boy and felt their hot bodies rub against each other through their shirts, the faint grind of Christophe course jean material against his bare and throbbing cock. "Now! Do it now!"

"Fuck, Stan, yes!" Christophe crashed his lips into Stan's again, forcing a tongue inside his mouth and claiming it in complete dominance. Stan just closed his eyes and let him, breathing heavily through his nose and closing his arms around Christophe's back. He pulled at Christophe's shirt material, wanting that off but also hinting that he wanted his own off, because it was getting uncomfortable. Christophe appeared to get the hint and soon they were both very much naked, Stan's damp shirt now discarded on the floor.

"I need to get the lube," murmured Christophe, lips on Stan's chest not pulling away, like they couldn't leave it, always needing to kiss something, to have Stan filling his senses.

"T-Top draw," Stan panted back, pushing Christophe's head away a little to hurry him, even if this meant he had to stop kissing. He heard Christophe grumble, reluctantly leaving Stan's body and going to rummage through his stuff for what he wanted. Stan shifted slightly to watch him, and to drink him in. Christophe's face was red, along with a blush running down his neck and chest. His cock was extremely erect and it was clear when he clasped his hand around it to pump it a few times that he'd been having great difficulty restraining himself for so long.

Stan also moved his own hand to his member, about to do the same, or just stroke it and relieve some on this tension. But something stopped him just as he was about to and he dropped his hand to his hip instead, whimpering. He didn't want to take any of this away from Christophe and interfere. This was Christophe's moment, his teasing was all for a reason and Stan couldn't bring himself to do anything prematurely.

Christophe must have noticed this for he moved back to kneel before Stan's feet and grinned at him. "You're being a good boy for me now."

"Y-Yes."

He continued grinning and then picked up the lube bottle. Stan could see his grin slowly drop as he studied it, being replaced by a look of confusion instead. "Zis... zis has gone down a lot since last time we used eet," he said slowly, voice sounding miffed and maybe even a little worried. Stan blushed a furious shade of red and felt like an idiot in this moment, because the truth about it was completely innocent and very embarrassing, making him sound like a simple-minded fool with very unusual habits.

"I - uh - I really like the taste. I couldn't help myself..."

"You... you ate eet?"

"Yes, I sat here in my room, watching a film on my laptop and snacking on cherry lube. I'm never getting it again, it's just become a highly expensive snack."

"Oh, Marsh," Christophe chuckled, sounding so entertained. "You are just too much. I... you're wonderful." His fingers were soon slicked up, and Stan gasped as one of them pushed inside of him, cold with the lube but with an underlying warmth. It moved with precision and force, knowing where it needed to go, stretching and probing to hit that delicious spot which made Stan groan and squirm. It wasn't long until a second was added and together they stretched him open, scissoring to make room for what was coming, but still hitting that sweet bundles of nerves which had Stan panting and writhing.

"I need you inside me," Stan begged as Christophe's fingers continued their probing. "I need... I need it now." He did too, or else just this alone was going to make him come. He'd gone through it all and now his whole body was aching for Christophe to fill him. And he did, pushing into Stan as soon after he'd begged as he allowed himself. Stan's body was already burning, but now it felt like every inch of it was on fire, being pleasured in places he wasn't even aware he could be.

"Oh, fuck," he heard Christophe panting, as he took a firm and forceful rhythm. Stan could feel himself being pushed deep into, at an angle where the tip of Christophe's member would push into his prostate and send that shiver up his spine. He knew that as soon as Christophe went faster and rammed into that bunch of nerves hard, he'd last for mere seconds. It didn't seem to matter, and Christophe obviously knew this. It wasn't hard from looking at Stan to tell that he was close. His face was bright red, eyes scrunched closed and mouth parted. His fingers were digging into Christophe's shoulders, tense arms pulling him closer as his legs wrapped around his hips did the same. Even his toes were curling and he was sweating all over.

"Mmnn, fuck," he groaned back. "Christophe I..."

"I know." Christophe's nails dug into Stan's hips with his words and he began pounding, deep and fast thrusts aimed at the boy's prostate. Stan grunted and groaned with these thrusts, muscles clamping around Christophe, hands gripping him with such force. He couldn't hold out any longer, not like this.

"Oh, I-I'm going to come!"

"Zen come for me." Christophe kept going, pounding hard. Stan opened his eyes just in time to see the bright green of his eyes before his vision patched white and he let out a groan of ecstasy. He came hard, feeling a warmth spill onto his stomach. He realised he'd come without his cock being touched once. He panted and whimpered as Christophe pulled out of him grabbed for his hair to kiss him.

The kiss was fierce and sloppy with Christophe whimpering too, though Stan wasn't sure why. He pushed him away gently and then saw that of course, Christophe was still hard. Without really thinking about it, he rolled over, pressing Christophe on his back and into the bed. He kissed down his chest quickly, over his stomach and then with only a moment's hesitation, took him into his mouth and started moving his head how he'd seen it done before. He'd never actually done this himself so he was doing a little bit of guessing. Christophe's moans sounded reassuring.

"Stan! Oh fuck! Yes!" he cried as his fingers tangled in Stan's hair. "Fuck, y-you're doing good." Confident in his abilities from Christophe's words, Stan continued slipping his mouth up and down. Christophe's member tasted like cherries which reminded Stan of where it had been. It didn't bother him though; it was actually quite arousing to him. He didn't take him deep, not feeling up to doing that yet, but he did groan and move his mouth fast until he felt Christophe yell out that he was coming and then come straight into his mouth. He swallowed, even though it wasn't very pleasant and then collapsed his head onto Christophe's chest, breathing into it in silence, until he fell asleep to take a nap. He couldn't help it; everything in that moment was just so perfect.

* * *

**A/N: I would really love to know something if you can answer this question! Who do ****_you_**** think was to blame for the fight in the art room? Stan? Gregory? Both? A flying rainbow octopus? Please tell me in a review below! Thank you!**


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